I was eleven years old. Head over heals in love with my classmate James Lee Staley. I want to marry him. I have already decimated Mrs. Johnson's daisy patch with many rounds of he loves me, he loves me not.
I always cheated and always end on "he loves me."
I want to be happy. I want the dream of a loving husband and a life of love and happiness. I want more than anything on the planet to find someone who can love me. More than anything on the planet...well except a big black stallion with a flowing mane and tail who will only let me ride him....and a candy store. I am after all only eleven.
But i am no ordinary eleven year old.
I have ghost words that haunted me on a deeper level. A very cruel and mean grown up felt the need to grab me by my arm and tell me when I was 3rd grade that I was so ugly that I would never have a husband. But perhaps even more damaging was the person who told me that I would never have a child. Ever. That I would be alone forever. The "ever" always hissed mockingly in my ear. I grew up knowing that I would always be surrounded by people, but forever alone.
June 1st James was killed in a motorcycle accident. A few days later Mama tossed the obituary page in my lap "did you know him?"
"yes" I whisper and retreat to the solitude of my mind. I stare at his name on the page and feel my soul fracturing. He died because I loved him. I poisoned him. I vow to never love another living person ever again.
The above an excerpt from previous writings.
Look what the internet burped up today.
I have traveled to the city he died in and walked two cemeteries reading each tombstone, looking for this one. I never found it. Know I know why, and where it is located.
I will travel there this summer and do what I have wanted to do since June 1977. Sit and finally grieve.
There is a piece of Jim I carry in my soul, and always will.
Some friends I just refuse to give up.