Bao's weblog

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Meandering thoughts of a Bay Area college student… be prepared for some bipolar vocabulary

How alone I feel

Your graceful casket.

A smiling picture atop.

I miss you so much.

Please, don’t any of you guys die. I don’t want to come and cry at your funeral, too. So why can I see in perfect clarity the flowers artfully arranged, the chairs lined up neatly in rows, outside in the sprinkling rain? It’s something that I bitterly want to forget but cling onto me for always. I’m so tired. Tired of seeing you guys die in sudden accidents. Tired of imagining receiving the news. Tired of imagining the trip to the cemetery. Tired of being sad. Tired of being scared.

Who will I be able to spend a warm December day with now?

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