Oh fuck.
It’s happened again.
Jagdish is dead.
It’s my fault.
Oh shit — Uncle Bob's knocking at my bedroom door — probably wants "to talk" to me again about everything. Dammit.
– 7 Comments –
Anonymous said...
Please tell us what happened Peter. We are listening.
Rainy said…
I just discovered this blog. What is it? Is this a story? Is this real? And why hasn’t there been a post in several weeks?
Kim said…
It’s real, Rainy.
Peter is real.
And I’m worried about him.
Mantaray Ocean said…
I’m worried, too.
Peter? Are you okay? We’re still here. It’s okay, talk to us. Let us know you’re okay.
Kim said…
C’mon, Peter. It has been over a month now and we haven’t heard a single word from you.
There are people who care about you.
Please let us know you’re okay.
Frank said…
Peter. You were doing so well writing about everything. It was helping to sort things out, helping put things into perspective. You can do that again. You can find help and support through writing about it. Remember the words of advice from your guidance counselor. He was right: writing helps.
Kim said…
Writing does help, Peter. My own journal helped me through some really rough times.
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
I, Death
TerrorWARNING: CONTAINS GRAPHIC HORROR & DEPICTIONS OF ADULT SEXUAL SITUATIONS THAT ARE LIKELY TO BE DISTURBING TO SOME. DEFINITELY NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. READER DISCRETION IS STRONGLY ADVISED. -- "I, Death is a death rattle coming of age story;...