He was a man of letters

He was a man of letters and had many long correspondents with many people from many different walks of life, but most of them were cunts. He didn't have the unusual honor of meeting most of these people face to face, but with the then-modern technology communication was near instant anyway.
That's what they'll say about me after I die.
My lady (and I use that in the most sarcastic way possible) Danika has deigned to respond to my letter:

Dear Tim,
i write the way i think. there is not thought process in between the words and my fingers. there is a deeper meaning beneath all the nonsense, i guess you'd just have to know me to know waht i am talking about. i don't speak like this in real life all the time, but these words are written in the exact way and order that they were thought out.

Danika

mybrainisfulloffuck.jpg
Sooo I'm just here taking a break from hunting monsters because I find myself with almost enough parts for about a million different armor sets but I'm missing one integral component for each. I'm thinking of going for Lagiacrus armor because-- I don't know, but eh.
Barioth armor looks p. cool but I've never hunted a Barioth before and I don't really feel like learning an entire new pattern of attacks when I've fought Lagiacrus successfully a few times, and Lagiacrus looks almost as cool and is probably more useful to boot.
Oh yeah, I bitch about people here, don't I? Well let's fix that right now.

The pre-calc final (part 1) was today. I don't have much to say about it, good or bad. It just drained me and left me oddly hyper.

>drained
>hyper
High school girls.

Walking home today took forever. I just dragged my feet along, looked at the ground, and as I grabbed my keys out of my bag before I hit the back door I heard my neighbor call my name.

This is why I don't talk to neighbors. They probably want something from you.

They waved me over, and so I sighed, held my keys in my hand, and walked over to greet them.

Can't talk. I, uhh, left the stove on.

Mrs. F. asked me how much time I had left in school. I told her we had 8 official days left, and we talked about all of my summer plans.

I'm very busy this summer.
As far as they know. Besides, define "busy". Lagiacrus won't kill itself, anyway.

Mr. O explained that their grandson, Tyler, was coming to stay with them for the summer.

Is Tyler a chick? Nope? Don't give a fuck.

Tyler is my age, so they were wondering if I wouldn't mind hanging out with him, showing him around Easton, making him feel welcome, etc.

Oh my Christ why do I have to babysit an adult for you?

Why should I spend my precious time with some yuppie?

Yeah exactly.

But the morally conscious teen in my agreed.

>Morally conscious
There is not a moral choice to be made here. Both possible results are about as "good" as each other.
Stating the moral choice is to hang with the grandson (which you stated you don't want to do) implies, what, his time is somehow more important than your time? Obliging people is the morally superior option? The harder route is somehow the moral one simply by virtue it's more difficult?
I don't get it, man.

Today:
Today was hot. I wore a dress, a dress I love, because it shows me off in a way I enjoy.

WHORE.

Spent the day barefoot, knee-deep in the clean, clear waters of Assateague.

Nya-ha, a denizen of Old Country.
Now there's a lot of words about New York I'm not reading.
Now there's some shit about writing letters to dead people by putting them in a bottle and floating them down river and I'm suddenly reminded of the Police song.

Mom always said that it was good luck if it rained after someone died.

No, sorryimsorry's (ugh) mom, it's good luck to have rain on your wedding, not your funeral.

Today, I live for the chance to see tomorrow.

And then when tomorrow comes I live to see the day after that-- wait, it's self-perpetuating.

I live for a brighter future. I live for the idea that you can only get so low before you have to pick back up...

It's like everything I've ever said on this blog.
Except in reverse.

James (Jim) Clarence Higgins died May 16, 2010 at 8:45 PM.
He was alone.

And I will never forgive myself for letting him die that way.

"When we die, we die alone."
Oh my fuck her best friend and her ex-boyfriend died. They're the same person, but still this will get insufferable quick.

I apologized over and over but I mean really, how do you forgive fucking up prom?

There will never, ever be an event as important as high school prom.
Wait--

Day 26 - Your Definition of Love.


Oh look it's this shit again.

Love is when you look at a person and can't seem to remember your life before them.

Love is like a fortune cookie: full of trite wisdom and not really a fortune at all.

Today is the U.S. National Day of Prayer, and believe me when I say I used that to my advantage.

Work is prayer. Back to it.

Man I'd make an awesome leader. No economic hardships under my reign.

Jim went into the hospital earlier tonight with a fever of 105.8
He's had it for 4 days now...

Faith said they're screening him for cancer again. I pray to God it isn't cancer. Not again.
I already went though this.

Wait, you went through it? What about Jim? I'd say he's the one with the problem, here.
Oh forget it. This has already gone on way too long.
Be seeing you, fags.