Maybe you will take a moment out of your sorrow

and read this?

I hope you are okay, Abby. Actually, I am going to call you. Right...now.

Is Diego the one Emily said looked like you? Do you see the resemblance? Why do you have to give them names that have to do with the Super Bowl? That's no fun. Are they always going to be themed.

I hate when people think you're great. Or good even. Because then, whatever you do, it will never be good enough. Ever. At least when people dislike you, or don't know you, or kind of think you are a loser, you can do something impress them. But when people like you, you're screwed. Because then, you'll NOT impress them, and they'll stop thinking highly of you, and then they won't like you.

Which stinks, pretty much.

My dad sends his love. And, I quote, "I like anyone who makes my daughter happy. Even if they dress funny." Hmm...plaid pants, anyone?

Have you eaten recently? The worry.

That congratulations sounded pretty sarcastic. Actually, your entire post sounded slightly hateful. It is worrying me to no end. I need to sleep. I need to stop.

RIP, Heath Ledger. Poor guy had some problems that could have been solved, I bet. This whole killing yourself is taking the easy way out in most cases. Then again, I don't think I could ever do it.

Kleenex.
Needed.
Immediately.

I hate this. Whatever this is. I am unsure. But I want to hate. Isn't that awful? Do you ever feel like this? Like you just absolutely need to hate something? It truly is awful. I shouldn't be writing when I feel hateful. I promise I will try to not say anything too horrid.

The minds of others are probably just as confusing as yours or mine. Or Heath Ledger. Or Queen Elizabeth. Or Hank. They're all insane, really. It's the insanity that makes things interesting. It's the insanity that makes things worth caring about or thinking about.

Just because people die doesn't mean you shouldn't care about them or feel anything toward them. That would result in an entire world of cold. Everyone dies, but we've managed to get over this fear so that we can be happy. Or at least okay. And we make mistakes. We always so things that could have been done differently, or better, but we keep on going, because we can't do anything else. If we stop to think about it, the world isn't going to stop, and we'll just miss more of the future taking our own sweet time dwelling in our hated past, and then we'll dislike that new past that was once the present because we didn't take the time to enjoy it or gain anything from it.

Kleenex with lotion! Yes!

"Why do I always have to make the decisions? You know that I am awful at deciding things!" the Ragpicker said, though at the same time, she grabbed hold of the Ticketmaster's sweaty palm and led her down the not-so-busy street. They walked for what seemed to be five hundred miles (though they sang that song, so it wasn't quite so bad) until they stood facing a dark silhouette of a large pile of dirt, weathered only slightly from the years that passed. They trudged upwards until they found a comfortable place at the top where they could sit and view the stars, which were abundant, making the night slightly chilly.

Nope. You were first for the pet peeves. I decided on the list topic, you comply. Unless you don't want to, which should then result in your coming up with a new topic. Why did Marc Anthony just come on my iPod? I am so cool, and you definitely know it.

Good-bye, Abigail.
Smile.