somehow i've always been the one to understand the wrong in you. i had to take the ingredience of it and make it into cherry frosting for the rest of our family; even when i hated you myself. and now you're dying. and years ago i would have supposed i'd be lunatic about it, but i'm just normal. and it makes me so terrifically angry how very normal i am. because how am i to believe that my father, the man who is nearly a foot taller than me and always so much more powerful than me, is deteriorating inside? and just when our relationship is right. whose little girl will i be? i haven't yet tapped into any of it; it's a bare naked ice river on my lungs. all we can do is wait. bedtime never seemed like such a waste.

2003-02-23, 2:56 p.m.
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