2003-07-01 - 10:16 a.m.

the bed was always extremely high. i used to put one leg up and leap on. it was always fun that way. the brass was shiny and the detail made me feel like a princess. we used to lay there with our eyes to the ceiling and talk about how i wanted to be in the olympics or identifing the strange noises in the house. she would fiddle her fingers through my hair. i never wanted to leave the soft linens and her love.

i was a child. i associated that bed with a dream. away from the harsh realities and there i could just talk about school or whatever i was feeling. i remember lying there and her saying 'when i go, this bed is yours'. and i told her that was silly because she wasnt going anywhere. i remember the tears starting to well up behind my eyes and to think of life without her was unbearable. but i really did like the bed.

when she died, aunts, uncles ran about claiming things like it was looting. the only thing i wanted was a candle and that bed. i got the half used sugar plum scented candle, but the bed had been claimed. they blantently said i could not have it. they all knew it was to go to me. and not to mention the fact i had to go and find an apartment because they were kicking me out. i was seventeen and couldnt even sign my name legally. my aunt felt bad for me and gave me my mattress...thanks.

so last night i layed staring up at the ceiling and i wanted to talk. and i could hear her words. and the tears start to surface, because life is unbearable without her and i really did like that bed.