7:21 am - Tuesday, Feb. 18, 2003
Song: A Sorta Fairytale - Tori Amos
I am home from Seattle. And i'll tell you all about it.
Later.
Right now I'm a bit devestated. Last night my former Elementry school was on fire.
That was when I lived out in the severly broke part of Portland, and that school wasd an amazing place. Each and every teacher there told me I was amazing, and going places.
Somehow I think I might dissapoint them with me now if it weren't for the fact that they all told me as I left 5th grade, "Don't you dare stop writing."
Got it covered.
I can't believe it burned so much though. Think of the banners in the front hall, one of which was my creation, and the mosaic bench that my best friend Sarah and I helped with. And hour pieceing together a tile flower.
I remember playing "Peter Pan" on the playground. Singing "I Swear" as practice. Dancing around the courtyard. Many kickball games. Daisy chains. Candy treats in the teachers closet. School dances.
It's not there, and yet neither was I, and longer.
And I wish I had let Chris see. And maybe still should. Because a lot of people don't see it until they visit there.
I'm not a little upper middle class kid whose parents buy whatever she pleases. I wasn't raised that way. Because we couldn't buy it.
And now.