Yea, I know. It's Christmas. Why the h*** am I online?

From the other night

Feeling: Sorry for myself
Hearing: WBEE

I'm part Apache. My great-grandmother made a dreamcatcher especially for me before I can remember. It's small but it's mine. I used to have it nailed above my bed back *home* (oh, Lord, tell me I'm not back to that). Then we moved and it shared a nail next to my bed with my calendar. Now it sits on my windowsill. My window leaks. My bed is underneath it as well. My dreamcatcher got wet. I can't nail it above my window because it's too high and it'll never work. One side of my bed has a huge bulletin board and a book case that cover half the wall. THe other has my (pitiful and not working) tree on my nightstnad. It doesn't fit anywhere! It needs a spot and it needs to be dry. If getting wet unleashed all hte bad dreams in the stone, I'll be dead from fear and horror. I'm very superstitious about my good luck charms and stuff. My horseshoe fell, head over heels, if you will, down the stairs because of Joey. I flipped. I just want (and here's the part where y'all shoot me) to go back. Before we moved, before they split, before I grew up, basically. I'm just feeling bad. I know I need to remove my rose-tinted glasses. Maybe they'll be gone tomorrow. I wonder how I'll feel tomorrow. It would have been my parent's fifteenth anniversary. Shit. G'night.

Love always,
Vickey

P.S. This was written the night of the twenty-first.