I'm sorry that you're still hurting.

Don't worry," I repiled, "I usually don't argue with the voices.

He can't remeber who he is or where he lives." "Well that's convenient." "Not when it rains.

I glanced up at him. "I love things that are beautiful when you don't expect them to be.

So are you turning out like them? Do you still write and draw?" "yeah, but I don't do anything personnal or profound. My parents take life way to seriousely. I lke to make people laugh. I had a regular cartoon feature in the school news paper and created some for the year book. Social satire stuff. I've done a couple of political cartoons for wisteria's paper and just got one accepted in Easton's, which has a much bigger circulation. Impressed?

I'll never stop wanting to kiss you," he whispered.

A storm was brewing. The wind has picked up and a mass of purple clouds was coming in from the West. It felt good to have my hair whipping around my head. I thought it might feel good to have hail beat down on me. Sometimes storms outside are the only relief for storms inside.