I just want someone who cares about me to know that my leg is so hurting a lot, so much that I don’t know if I’ll sleep tonight, but we won the game and the ball that may have broken my leg bounced straight to the first baseman and ended up ending the firs inning with bases loaded and they didn't score which is good so I’m laughing, even though I can’t find a comfortable position and have no ice but just wanted somebody who cares to I know. I think I’m going to survive. Maybe even sleep a little later. Just wanted you to know. I hate stressing you out. But I just wanted someone who cares about me to know so I don't feel so alone. So thank you, love you, night night.
I once wanted to see myself as a writer, as a person gifted with a skill to put words together to say profound and wondrous things, to amaze readers with thoughts and emotions that would open their minds and free them from the shackles of fears that oppress us from without and from outside in this culture. What I have found in sharing personal letters is that most people personalize the thoughts and feeling in the words to a point where they either fall in love or become defensive, accepting the concepts and therein the person who they do not really know or rejecting them before ever knowing them. This is an attempt to reach beyond that superficial and over-personalized communication, an attempt to find your mind open, objective, and even eager to understand the concepts, thoughts, feelings, and playfulness in these words without judging the writer, without leaping to any assumptions or conclusions that you know me. For how can anyone truly know another without spending time lookin...
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