I hate the end of the semester for PLT. We have to do these progress reports. Normally there not so bad, but i teach 5 different sets of students that rotate every week. Impossible to remember people's names when you see them once every five weeks, or accurately assess them.
Life is odd. Things come and go. I had a good friend tell me she was admitted into the hospital last night because of an overdose of Adavan. I guess that's a depression drug. I'm not sure what else was involved, but i'd be lying if i said it was altogether surprising. I don't know the circumstances. I was supposed to meet her at a Metro Stop, but when i got there, she called and gave me the short version and said she wasn't up to going out. But she's okay. That's the main thing. Rough stuff. I'll see her tomorrow. No work tomorrow.
I have another friend here who tried to commit suicide long before i met her. She's good now. But that's scary stuff. She's showed me the scars.
The things i have seen. And i am grateful for all the things i haven't yet and hope to never see.
The first time i ever sent pen to paper to write a story, i thought; Someone (God? Satan?) must want me to write or all these wacky things wouldn't happen to me. I could have altered that to; Or all these crazy things wouldn't just happen. Life would be more sane.
All i know is.... i'm still writing. And that can only be a good thing.
We get through, somehow, we crazy humans. We do what we can.
Sorry to be so heavy. It's been a heavy day.
I'm just so happy she's alright. In the end, you have to just carry on.
Light creeps through her secret tunnels
Sucked into the open spaces
Burning out in sudden flashes
Draining blood from well-fed faces