September 03, 2004.

clue me in.

i keep looking for clues.
clues in her suitcase, clues in her room, clues in her schoolbooks, why?

because i wrote things in my books myself, and i think, i hope that maybe she did the same.
i don't find any, though.

instead, i get wafts of the person she used to be, and it hurts.

it hurts when i think about everything she went through, it hurts when i think that she did not know what she was doing those last few days before she came home, those swarovski crystals she bought hurt.

i wish, i so wish, that i could have done more than just be here for her now.

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