Dear Lord,

My brain feels a 100 years old, bordering near senility and dementia, and cruising from screensaver to hibernation at a more than moderate speed. My body feels near 80, weak, and too lazy, too tired, to move, to speak. The mind that is somewhat near/in/around/whatever the brain has stopped making coherent sentences, because weaving familiar words together to create meaningful phrases is too much of a chore. Right now, only the fingers are moving; everything else is on a standstill--the slouch, the furrowed brow, the insecure right foot resting on the left in an awkward equilibrium.

Dear Lord, please let me survive to be 21.

Col says that You are not done with me yet, on this earth, and I hope it really is so. The way things go, the weak heart in my ribcage is going to hop out like a mad rabbit and onto the ground next to me. My sister has a black rabbit fur scrungie which I accidentally touched while groping about in the dark bedroom yesterday which sent shivers down my spine. That girl. Bless her, because she is my sister.

Dear Lord thank you for the early birthday present this year. It isn't something I can hold in my hand and feel it's smoothness, or something I can listen to as I walk down the corridor on my way to lessons, or something I can take a sniff every now and then. But it is something I can see, smiles and nice words, something I can hear as well. And it's something I can feel, and feelings are important, because it is what makes us human. Thank you, for bringing two people back together. Two very important people.

And dear Lord, I am hungry, so would You please excuse me, I would like to have my dinner now.

Sustain me Lord, for one more day. (And after, for the exams that I can already smell. But we'll talk again then.)

Thank You so, so much.

Love,
ros, 20.