10-22-98 Phelan, CA
Dearest Sister (Janet),
I was surprised to hear about your boyfriend, though it's been many years, you still have a propensity towards turning them, well....GAY! This is either serious or hilarious, I'm not sure. I hope besides that your life is going smoothly.
I just seem to have too much idle time (several hours) per night. I get home too late to hook up with anybody, therefore I'm left in the preverbial dust.
I hope the big letter arrives with or before this one. Of course I don't know which ones I sent and which I didn't. I really don't expect to impress anyone with my writings. I hope you don't laugh at the bad punctuations and mispelling of simple words.
I'll include an insight to a bout with depression and give a short synopsis. If a title is needed the closest would be:
One dark day I lost my American prayer. I'm not
exactly sure where, how or why...My heart became
black and cold, my soul was drained. Yet the game
went on, the rain...rained, the sun rose and fell.
My small minute world was doomed by my own hand...
I lost the only one who could be my mate. Those
material things that took the edge off life no longer
mattered to me. The house is now dark and cold, as I
grow old...this is depressing.
I will always love her for she was so special to
me.
Those years of young laughter can never be forgotten
(nor should they). Times were not always pleasant,
but we overcame the blizzards and the rains.
I was alone in the damp, cold darkness before she
came, here I am again.
--I once believed in an American prayer.
June 07, 1998
I once held onto an American prayer...marriage and
happiness, securely employed, a lovely home, a good
car, a pillar in the community -- the dream of
dreams, baseball games and cool summer rains.
I ws going to send this to Cindy when I wrote
it, but like all the other letters - I never did.
I'd like to know how to obtain closure. I'm not the one who made her stupid, I tried to get her educated. Let's put it this way -- If you get a pair of pants when you're young eventually you'll grow out of them, they go out of style, unless they grow with you or the style comes back; as much as you like them you will have to discard them.
I'm not sure what a nervous break down is, but I was suffering from something at that time. If she could have gone a few hours without screaming from time to time my mental health would have been a lot better.
Well, enough with the she-bitch, in the end she's still William's mother.
I'm getting a bit tired, so I'll wrap this up. Give mom a hug for me.
