I wouldn’t write on this holiday specifically if it didn’t fall on Friday, it doesn’t seem important enough of a holiday. How are you doing today? Are you wearing green? I don’t think I will, but I’m always a little afraid of pinching. From who? The ghosts of my third grade classmates, I suppose.
I can’t say I’ve done very much this week, again. The same agonies follow me as usual. I distract from them by YouTube videos and drawing, I vent them in writing (or planning to write, more often). What are you up to lately? I don’t remember much about public school, but it feels as if prom should be about now. Did you/are you going to prom? That could be fun. I have one memory of Mom (Mel) telling me she would show up at my prom night and point me out, saying “There’s my daughter,” and embarrassing me. The idea is a ghost wandering the mind now. But I think I’ve told you that story, and I think you were there anyways.
But again, who knows, perhaps your pre-trauma memory is worse than mine, since you were nine and I was eleven when I went on vacation. I wonder what you remember of me. I wasn’t a very good sister, so I fear the worst of it. I’m sorry for anything wrong of me that you remember, and that you don’t.
I am always doing poorly, but Mom says I’m not allowed to kill myself, so I remain here as long as I can take it. And so I remain to sign off today. I’ll leave you with a picture of Paris sitting in a box of grapes. Little Caligula.
With love,
Alice