We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless" (7)
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| "Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless" (7) |
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| Krister�s first memory of me was in first grade, when Jon Evans �tickled� me and I cried. Of course, the teacher wasn�t going to tell the then seven-year-old Krister that Jon had actually grabbed my crotch. Krister befriended me out of pity. He told me this seven years later. He always felt the need to �save� me from the evil Jon. When Jon tried to �marry� me at recess in second grade, I ran off with Krister. Me being a shy child, Krister was my one consistent friend in grade school. He was a blond haired blue eyed child of the sun, and the most incorrigible pessimist I have ever met. That�s probably why I liked him. The pessimist with a cause. It was quite a shock in eighth grade when I realized we were only playing a game of white knight and damsel in distress. This was when I started to break away from him. Ninth grade was quite possibly the worst year of my life. I became a prisoner of the fascist regime Bishop MacNamara High School. It was so bad that I received hate mail in my bookbag. Adam and Tim tried to get me to make promises to protect me from myself. Krister asked me for something else. He said he wanted me to write every day. This I have done, and still do, while the other promises melted away a week after they were made. I have (approximately) thirty-three volumes of my life stashed in a locked trunk. Krister, in his own way, saved me when no one else knew how. | ||||