working on my writing, because it makes me feel like I am about to jump out of my skin. AAAHHHHH!! I did work on the plot outline though. (so far, I would say it sucks) (not really the story so much, it isn't its fault, I sort of like it, rather my not knowing how to tell it, and how I do tell it, that is what sucks about it)
Oh, yes, my aunt made a birthday cake today for A. God, how sad to eat it without her, do you still sing "happy birthday" or do you just sit there and cry.
I can't believe the V- Tech thing. I don't want people murdered on my recently deceased cousin's birthday. (or on any other day)
The parents, the loved ones, the friends. I think 80 years old is too young to die. The gift of time. I always want more time. Why did this happen? I want to know, why, but really there can't be a real why. There is no justification, there is no sense. ugh...
and still here I am over-wrought by words on a computer screen, and my inability to turn them into something meaningful. Well isn't that a cheerful thought no matter what tragedies go on in the world, and around me, I will always be able to feel quite tortured by my inability to be a good writer. Or should that be by my inability to write well. I certainly wouldn't know.
of course, I do admit, I would rather feel anguish over such inabilities then (than?) to in any way, internalize, and truly feel, the loss/loses of all these young people.
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