because that’s what my psychiatrist says, but this is a worse that feels too big.
After a week of not talking to anyone, I finally called Bob. I know that’s wrong, but I didn’t know what else to do.
I asked him if he had anything I could buy. He said he had a quarter ounce of pot left.
So, I took some of my Easter money and bought it. I’ve been smoking it all the time since. Love always, Charlie
part 4
April 29, 1992
Dear friend, I wish I could report that it’s getting better, but unfortunately it isn’t.
It’s hard, too, because we’ve started school again, and I can’t go to the places where I used to go.
And it can’t be like it was. And I wasn’t ready to say good-bye just yet.
To tell you the truth, I’ve just been avoiding everything. I walk around the school hallways and look at the people.
I look at the teachers and wonder why they’re here. If they like their jobs. Or us.
And I wonder how smart they were when they were fifteen. Not in a mean way. In a curious way.
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