And uh, NO, this, is still NOT me, GRIEVING, ‘cuz I’m already done, with ALL of that already!!!
How, can I be happy, knowing, that you were, murdered??? As the days fall off my calendar (the Page-a-Day???) here, I’m just, reminded, more, and more of, how old you should be, and all of a sudden, I’d, fallen, into, that darkened abyss of sorrows, anger, and I’d, hated myself, for getting raped.
not my sketch here…
How can I be happy, knowing, that you were, murdered??? You would’ve been mine, and, had you been “made” (inside of MY god damn FUCKING U-T-E-R-U-S!!!), you would already BE SEVEN years old right now, but, you’re still, DEAD, and, there’s just, NO way ‘round that, baby girl!
How can I be happy, knowing, that you were, murdered??? That I was, ABUSED and NEGLECTED, by the TWO most important people in my life, my FUCKED up parents? Oh wait, I had, already, gotten OVER that, and I am not grieving, over this DEAD Emily of mine, because??? Oh yeah, it’s NOT that time of the month for me yet, and, who knows, maybe, I’ll start crying over you, my dearest Emily, in a little while…………
not my photo still…
Life, the Obstacle Course 