The pen flows easily, and many words have been written. The writings are a scribble since they try to keep up with my thoughts. I will not worry about structure until I empty my head.

now, for with every word the passion grows. The differences in emotions start to ricochet in my head, and they are certain to collide. I must stop this. Why would I choose to write of such an awful event? I must be able to choose another topic. My mind has become vacant of any new ideas, and I am obsessed with this one story alone.

My notebook is filling; although, something is lacking. The words you prescribe do not feel their intent. You would have me tell of our vigil, and my father's pain. These thoughts are private; they are not to be shared. Could I allow them to be scrutinized as if they had no meaning? You subdue my anger when I recall that "Quack". The agony in the decision whether or not to resuscitate a loved one; how can you possibly feel this? Even as I scratch and mar your surface, you do not feel. Your

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Approximate Word count = 555
Approximate Pages = 2 (250 words per page double spaced)