Setaú úta (setauuta) wrote,
Setaú úta
setauuta

Going through my postcards, sorting out who gets which when, and suddenly coming across one and automatically thinking "I'll send that one to Daddy." But I can't. I can't. He'll never know I walked down the same streets he did when he was about my age, saw the same sights, never know how much I admired him, how much I missed him when he had to go away, how much I wanted him to stay home

I almost wish I couls just scan in these entries from my journal - my handwriting says much about my emotional state. It's been two and a half years - won't it ever get better? Or will I always be taken off-guard by little things, that'll send me into fits of tears? A postcard, for God's sake.

A postcard.
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