Dear God,

I want to go home.  Just like the old days, no friends, no outside life.  It does not matter if I sit in my room until forever, it is better than what I live with now!  I know I am not making sense.  I am drunk.  It does not matter.  I would be a million times happier if I was at the Korean Bell.

I hate it here.  Thanks, C., you f$%$% B&%#, because of you I think I dream of sand beaches and surfer dudes that won’t stay.  Because of you, I ditched English.  I guess I will always be stupid.

I loved it when I was nothing then no one could hurt me.  I want to go home.  I hate it where I am.  The b@#$% doesn’t even watch the show!  So who thinks about me?  I will tell you who, a f##$$ invisible man.  The man that I have created in the pages of this book.  He doesn’t care if I talk too much or say the end of the story first, or whatever I seem to do that annoys people so much.  He loves me just the way I am.  I can’t find him here.  I have been looking, please tell me



where to go!  I am sorry. I am crying all over the pages.  This is not where I want



to be.  Take me home! Please, please, please, God, if I could only have my own house.  Just for myself and him.  I don’t feel comfortable here anymore.  Take me home, please.  Where the water is cold and the wind is war.  Someone, no matter who is there to love me.


Sorry about the tears on the paper.


October 26, 1989

My Dear,

I need to wake up in a bad way so I will tell you what bothers me about C.  She is as moody as hell! I could piss her off and not even know it and she will not talk to me for4 a few days and I will be clueless.

She is very bratty.  If she doesn’t get what she wants, watch out!  I mean screw anyone else unless it suits her.  You can really tell she is an only child.  If she is doing something it is okay.  If someone else does the same thing and she doesn’t like it then she’ll get pissed.  Speaking of being pissed. Talk about getting over excited about the littlest things.  She has no patience with clerks and such.

She has a very short temper and she wants things done her way.

She worries too much what others think and she puts herself down too much.  I think she does it for attention.  So people will say “no, that is not true”.  Whatever!

If there is something she doesn’t like, then all she will do is complain and cry and take it out on us.  Look, if she fails a test it is not my fault.  Maybe she should have studied.  The point is if she doesn’t like her grades or the way she looks then she should change instead of cry about it.

By the way, it is not my fault I have more money than her.  My mother was right she thinks everyone owes her.  I am lucky I have a stepfather that loves me and takes care of me.  While I worked very hard, she sat at home all summer.  I went to school and worked!

I believe that is all for tonight.

October 24, 1989

My Dear,

Okay, he accepted it.  But now I think I forgot to do an anthropology forum.  What is my problem this semester?  I am really a scatter brain.  Thankfully my anthropology professor is a lot easier to deal with.  I simply will talk to her today, play my dumb routine and we shall see what happens.

Other big to-dos.  G. asked why C. and I weren’t going to the formal.  We said because we could not find dates.  He said he would go with us.  He thought it would be a lot of fun if the three of us went.  I thought it was a great idea.  C. did not. Ultimately, she is not going and G. and I are.  I even told her I would get set up which at first I was objected to.

October 17, 1989, was the big earthquake in San Francisco.  It did not affect me but it sure freaked a lot of people at school!

The class is starting.

October 8, 1989

It seems odd that time can pass so quickly.  It seems like yesterday when I first started writing to you.  So much as happened since last I wrote you.  I live with J., C., and D.  I no longer talk to L. for a number of reasons.  I think the most important is that I had wanted to be rid of her for along time.

I live in the Zoo and there are a lot of great people here making the experience noteworthy.

I joined a G.D.I. and I love it.  I suppose you had already realized that something like that would be for me.

There is so much that I want to say.  I will start writing to you again so let me put you in my backpack.

It is so good to be back!