|
2003-04-24 || 7:07 p.m. || 6071 k-e-l-s-e-y || we used to bury dead birds and plastic rings in the backyard. dead birds turn into toothpick skeletons and rings turn into pirate treasure, the spots marked with small crosses secured with dental floss. there were rotting nectarines and hibiscus, doll heads and soggy notes written in that pre-cursive little girl handwriting. notes to dead cats and ricky schroeder and imaginary big sisters and the grandpa who used to ride horses. i distinctly remember writing a letter to god once. i sat on the three-inch deep window sill in my huntington beach bedroom, my ankles shaking from balancing my weight against the glass, and wrote something about loving him and please say hello to all the cats and dogs and family and i hope everything's good up there. my mum found it taped to the window and tried to explain that i didn't have to write it because he knew all of that all ready and was there when i wrote it and helped me write it. i knew she was wrong and figured god probably couldn't read it in my window anyway seeing as he's too big to peek in people's houses, so i put it outside on the picnic table where it would be easier to see. i completely forgot about that. and i don't believe in god anymore really. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |