by Kirsten Ashenbrenner

Created on: February 01, 2008   Last Updated: May 25, 2008

LETTER FROM JENIE/(c)2008 Kirsten Ashenbrenner

Deer Ronda

I cannot talk, that is why I write and I never got passed 6th grade, but I suppose it really does not matter since what I saw of school it does not seem like you would be any less brighter if you sat and watched tv instead of going to school. My older brother and I found out last year, after my 11th birthday party; what sex was all about and I tell you I am glad that secret is over with because it seems like before it was a big deal but now it does not seem any more important than eating or taking a crap. Sorry. Jimmy said, it is different for boys, maybe, but they make a mess and I do not like that, maybe I am gay, but I do not think so.

Yesterday I caught a frog and chopped off his back left leg; and you know what he did: that frog was still able to hop away and I swear he even stuck his tung out at me; and later Jimmy and I had a new kind of sex with just our tungs and mouths but I did not like that either, so maybe I really am gay after all. So.

And we live by the ocean and Jimmy and I go down to the beach at night and smoke cigarettes he stole from Mommy and we walk in the moonlight he names the stars to me and we play tag and wrestle and stuff like that. And once we found a bum sleeping on the sand, snuck up on him, so we could surprise him but found he was drunked and the tide was coming in, tried to wake him, but we could not and we smoked a whole pack of cigarettes while we watched him float out to sea. Jimmy said, "It could to anybody, so do not drink alcohol on the beach," and I swore to Jimmy, I will not ever, and he liked reading my lips, nobody can as good as Jimmy, we were best of friends. I do not have any friends beside Jimmy, but that is ok, gives me more time to read and write, less distrastertions and I fast and meditate when I can.

This morning I woke with a terrible annoying headache, like I was trying to kill myself by giving myself the death headache, you know I could not get out of bed and I felt so sad I just plain started bawling and Patsy my terrier leapt up on my bed right into my face. And I grabbed her, slammed her against the wall and she cried, too, and so I did get up and I kicked her awful hard a couple times and later Jimmy said, "It is better to go hurt a dog than a person." I guess so, and then Jimmy and I had a new kind of sex that I do not want to talk about right now. Hurts. And I do not want to grow up to be a murderer so I will just have to kick Patsy some more, I guess.

But in the summertime the sun is so, so brilliant I can not open my eyes all the way and I stink when I sweat and Jimmy says: I like that, it makes me horny; so now I am all the time in the shower and I do not like the new sex at all and when jimmy read my lips he was very upset and slapped me across the face; he never before did such a thing and I fell down and stared back up at him and he said, Well, maybe you don't, but I do and that's all that matters; and I did never feel the same about Jimmy ever again. So, that is why I ran away and I am sending you this letter Ronda: from Aunt Leslie's house and please come visit me; I am lonely, or do you think that is a gay thing to say?

I love you (not gaylike),
Jenie
:)

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