I have worked so hard, put in so many hours on the painting, and on the small viking outfit. why would I be disapointed when they are done, because then I can not avoid the truth. . .
the truth. . . I find I can't write it now that I know someone can read it. Doesn't matter how much trust I think I have, I can't bring myself to do it. I pretend that it isn't real, but then sometimes I believe it isn't real.
why is it that teddybears get smaller as you grow up?
Thursday, July 25, 2002