A letter I found from the beginning of August

Here it is.

I will write my feelings out and then they will be recognized. 'You see that?" Right there!" My friends can say, "She felt sad. Do you see the way she did that? Between the periods." Its all here. All the pain of no longer being me. Here it is. You can say you received it. I will have written it. Then I can go and on and drown myself in high fats and feign interest when I hear people talking about weight watchers.

The pain is that deep.

Its not even in the words anymore. I used to be able to write and show people my pain in the way my words were running. The way my commas, lined themselves up after words like deflated, alone, worried, sick, sister. Now, I want to get out a camera and capture the images. Because I cant say the words you need to hear to feel like you are living inside my head. Why should I be so alone? Let me make up a photo blog and point in silence.

"You see?" I will ask you, without meeting your eyes, "You see my family?"

And I will take out all my childhood photos and let you adore us. We are that freakin' adorable.

'Here, now please 2009."

My sister.

My father unable to drive back to Toronto until the pain is under control. Pik lines of morphine. My sister reading sophie kinsellas new book. My brothers reading but not registering my pins.

A picture of me, alone.

My younger brothers baking zucchini and sweet potatoes in the oven.

There are some pictures you can not describe. You hear it in your younger brothers tone.

He is in New york.

You are far enough away to just call in.

Dialing. Dialing.

There never is the answer you want to hear waiting for you.

You have to follow it down all the familiar halls.

The way the hospitals do it is damning.

I have been with her there.

I can see my brothers in the cafeteria.

halls and halls of hospital bed.

You see this picture,

this is not my sister in a hospital bed.

This is not her with open scars, and marks.

She is never sick to me.

The words they use to describe her feel like words threading a necklace.

The ones you make in camp out of cereal. The ones I eat.

If pictures can say a thousand words, then these are mine.

But the picture worth the most is the one I can not take.

Because I am not close enough.

Ezra sent me a word, I have a picture of it in my head.

He said, "the doctor said they wouldn't be giving her this much morphine if it wasn't terminal."

I cant not spell.