I should be sleeping right now, but I can’t help but think about what’s happened. You left again tonight, you know. I guess it’s better than going to sleep. You know I made cookies tonight--trying to fill your shoes I guess--although you didn’t make cookies very often--only on special occasions. Will you be back tomorrow? I can’t help but hope that the answer is "no"--we will be just fine without you. I know that isn’t true, but with all of these little practices you keep giving us I can’t help but think it. They were too salty you know--the cookies I mean, were too salty. Guess I’ve got some things to learn--will you be there to teach me? I hope not. I want to hate you, but I can’t. I want to not need you, but I do. What’s happened to us? Is it all my fault like you said? I know everything that I see in you as selfish, inconsiderate, and ignorant is either not really those adjectives or is mirrored in me--probably both. I wish I could catch you and reel you in and talk to you--ask you about our disintegrating relationship, but I can’t. Just a plate of bad cookies I guess.

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