What can I say? Everyone looked lovely; the old house we hired for the night was fantastic; the food was plentiful and tasty. Liberty Ball was very nice. But I don't feel like talking about it now. I just don't. Sometimes it is impossible to talk, and even more so, for me, to write.
I'm unhappy right now. An older man who has been very good to my family, and whom I liked and respected very much died this weekend from a massive heart attack. I don't think he was a Christian. This means that most likely I will never see him again. I would have liked to say goodbye, but he was back where my home is, and I am here at college.
Nobody I knew and liked quite a bit has ever died before. The older brother of my older brother's friend died in a car accident, tearing
that whole family apart, but I didn't know him very well, and I was little. For the first time, I know what it's like.
He died at 1:07am last night, when I was at T.G.I. Friday's with friends after Liberty Ball feeling sorry for myself while they all laughed and talked. I was snippy with my roommate this morning. Why must I be mean to people? Why is life so hard?