Dear Whoever…, #68


Dear Whoever Likes To Read As Much As I Do,                                                                       May 29th, 2012

~”A room without books is like a body without a soul.” -Marcus Tullius Cicero

~”The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not had the pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.” -Jane Austen

~”Never trust anyone who has not brought a book with them.” -Lemony Snicket

~”Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscious: this is the ideal life.” -Mark Twain

~”It is what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you will be when you can’t help it.” -Oscar Wilde

~”Fairytales are more than true; not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” -G.K. Chesterton

~”Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.” -Groucho Marx

  “So many books, so little time.” -Frank Zappa

              Sorry about the many many quotes I used today. So many were good. I didn’t even have to scroll at all. I couldn’t let myself or else there’d be a whole post on quotes. Anywho onto what my main topic is about. Well it’s on literary stuff: writing, books, why our world is corrupt….wait okay, maybe only a little bit of my thoughts on that last one.

              I know, for those of us who like to read, a lot of us make summer reading lists, where we make a list of all the books we will hopefully have the pleasure of reading over the course of our summers. I’ve been accumulating rough lists of books I’d like to read, then clean my room, and lose my list. -30minutes later- I just found my list. Because without it, this post would be pointless. Anywho, I know there’s no way I’m going to get through absolutely all of the ones on my list this summer but I can try. I’m usually into vampires, and werewolves, and Young Adult books, most of them having strong heroines who reach victory after a long struggle of some sort. But this year/summer I’m trying to open my mind to different genres and become more rounded in my reading so you’ll notice some classics in there as well. I’d love to hear what are your favorite classics? And which ones I need to add to my list? And in any genre, what are some books I should add?


Two-way Street- Lauren Barnholdt           Little Women(reread)-Louisa May Alcott             David Copperfield-Charles Dickens


Oliver Twist-Charles Dickens                                A Tale Of Two Cities-Charles Dickens                            Divergent-Veroniva Roth




Red Badge Of Courage-Stephen Crane            Pride And Prejudice-Jane Austen             Sense And Senisibility-Jane Austen





The Summer I Turned Pretty-Jenny Han                                     Defiance-Lili St. Crow                                Reckoning-Lili St. Crow  


Now because I am lazy and tired and have already spent enough time on this one post I will now just list the rest of the titles in which I want to read and not the book covers:

The first 5 books I’ll read this summer are: The Scarlet Letter, Red Badge of Courage, The Princess Bride, The Summer I Turned Pretty, and Defiance.


Vampire Academy fans get ready for the release of the second Bloodlines book in June- The Golden Lily by Richelle Mead.

The Golden Lily, book 2 of Bloodlines

                “There is a fine line between bravery and stupidity.” What book is that from? ……….Divergent! By Veronica Roth

                 Anywho, I didn’t say all that I wanted to but this post is long enough and I don’t want to bore my readers any longer. I’ll be posting at least once a week now that I’m on summer vacation. Stay tuned to my blog for posts about: a cooking challenge, fairytale contest, YouTube review, Hunger Games synopsis, Improper Justice-a short story, and many many more things. Well thanks for taking the time to read this post. I hope you enjoyed it. I am super sorry if all the pictures and titles don’t line up or the formatting gets all messed up like it tends to when I use a ton of pictures. I still haven’t learned how to correct it but thanks for bearing with me through it.                                                                                                          -Love, a bookworm, eshy,


Dear Whoever…, #67

March 26, 2012

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Dear Whoever Knows That Every Girl Thinks About Her Wedding At Least Once, If Not From Time To Time,     3-26-2012

“A woman seldom asks advice before she has bought her wedding clothes.” -Joesph Addison

“A wedding is like a funeral, except that you get to smell your own flowers.” -Grace Hansen

“I chose my wife, as she did her wedding gown, for qualities that would wear well.” -Oliver Goldsmith

Sorry for not posting very recently. I’ve been writing posts but they’re drafts and my computer is stupid and doesn’t show me my drafts. They look like they were typed in white font. Therefore, I’ve just been saving them till I can get to a library computer and post them all.

I have a plan, don’t worry. This has just been bouncing around in my head for awhile now because for some reason I’ve been thinking of my wedding a lot more lately then usual. It’s not because I’m approaching the age most people are getting married. I’m far from there believe me. No. I’ve been thinking of it because of something else which brings me to the next part of this post.


Dad,    3.26.12

I have a game today so I have to leave soon so I’ll try to hit what I want to say with few words. I cried for you last night. It was completely out of the blue. It just hit me. The fact I’ll never see your smile again. Or hear your jokes. Or listen to you tease me. Never hold me close again. Never ask me what’s the matter ever again. That I was alone. Without you. This isn’t exactly a new revalation for me but the way it hit me it might as well have been. It seemed so fresh. And even though I knew it was coming for years, it didn’t help. I thought about what it’d be like after you died, before you died. Then I thought how much I had underestimated. I thought I could be prepared but I never could have been. It’s impossible to be prepared for that sort of thing. I’ll never hear you chatising me again. I’ll never get one of those rueful looks or I’ll never be in on any of your little jokes again. Like the one where you told Mom we were getting 30more ducks and they’d be arriving tomorrow when she was at work, ain’t that right eshy? And I’d lie and add to the story and we’d keep it spinning. Those make me smile and sting my eyes at the same time when I look back on the ones I remember. Last night I also realized that my worst fear came true. I am forgetting you. Just like Kris. Although I tried my hardest to burn you into my memory. I’m forgetting a little of what you look like even though I’m exactly the same. I’m forgetting some of the memories with you and that made me cry the most last night. I knew before you died that you wouldn’t make it to my highschool graduation, or college, or my graduation in the military, if I choose that road, and my wedding. It always stung then but now it stings worse. It’s bad. It’s really painful. Almost like that one time I had that needle through my toe and you had to hold me down, but it’s worse then that.

I think I’ll have Sister as my maid of honor, she’ll be wearing blue. As will I. It’ll bring out our eyes that we inherited from you. Jeff D., your friend, and Lisa stopped by yesterday. It got me thinking as I have been ever since your memorial service, about who’s gonna walk me down the aisle because I know you won’t be able to. I thought of Jim B. I thought about Denny. I thought about Jeff. He’s been weird since you died. Different a little. Quieter. His little partner in mischief isn’t here to back his jokes or talk engines with him or talk about the old workplace with. I feel bad for him because he misses you. It’s obvious. I think I want Danny Whitt Danny Whitt to walk me down the aisle. I’ve always liked him. He’s been really good to you. He’s been good to us. Remember when we got the truck stuck last year on our last shooting expadition, and we called him and he helped us out. He’s offering to take me shooting again and I want to, I do. But it’s to fresh. Your death is too fresh even almost three months later.

I hope you’re at my wedding. Or at least looking down on it. Since you’re not gonna be there, who’s gonna try to talk me out of it? That was to evoke a rueful smile. I’d give anything to see your smile again. Just thinking of how I never will, I’m tearing up. Anywho, Dad, I better get on with getting ready cause I’ve got to leave soon. I love you. And I miss you a ton. Oh, one more thing. The Sister and Mom are spending a ton since you’ve gone. I think it’s to fill the void, I’m trying to warn them to stop but they don’t listen much to me. Mom’s been kinda reckless. It scares me. I don’t feel safe around anyone anymore without knowing you’re not here to back me up. I’ve been having haunted thoughts of that voicemail you left me 3 years ago on my first day of school at that new school. You said you hoped I had a good day and if I didn’t then it’d get better with time. To keep my chin up. And that you loved me. And you were sorry that you couldn’t be there and that you wished you were to pick me up from school. And it makes me sob. I cry a lot when I think of anything to deal with you, if ya haven’t noticed. I know you wouldn’t want me to but I can’t help it. I know crying isn’t gonna make the pain go away. It’s not gonna do anything. But it’s reflex now. But now I’m just making excuses, trying to prolong saying goodbye-again.

I got a new shrink. Rememeber I told you first that I was thinking about doing counciling and I told you why I was apprehensive? I do. But I got a new one and I like her alot better. I guess that’s the last bit of news I have. I’m on the soccer team if you didn’t gather that from me saying that I have games and practice all the time now. I remember telling you with much excitement that I made the volleyball team and you didn’t look suprised at all and said “I figured you would.” I wish you could see one of my games. I’ve got a very responsible spot. Right in front of our goalie. We’ve lost every game so far but we’re doing better then last year. I’m team captain you know. I hate it. I don’t get to do anything special but call the coin in the air and pick what side. Now I really have to get ready. My friend’s gonna show up cause we gotta take her to the game. With love, eshy,


Dear Whoever…, #60

February 25, 2012

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Dear Whoever Likes To Read My Letters,                                                                                                                             2.24.2012.

“A person who can write a long letter with ease, cannot write ill.” -Jane Austen

“A Train was born without any effort – if was like writing a letter to a friend.” -Billy Strayhorn

“Even when I have to write a simple letter I’m scared stiff as if faced with looming seasickness.” -Gustav Klimt

“After the writer’s death, reading his journal is like receiving a long letter.” -Jean Cocteau

                                   Ya know what I think? I think so many things but here’s what on my mind this moment. I think that funerals are for the family and not for the person who’s being buried. I think that whoever is messed up enough to keep a dying person alive on a machine for the rest of their life, is selfish. I think that a dead man’s last wishes should be honored. I can give you three reasons of proof for each one of these thoughts.

I think…

  1.  They give the family and friends closure.
  2.  The person being buried is already gone.
  3. There’s always a party. You think dead people party much? I do but not on earth.
  1.   The dying person isn’t really living if he has to stay hospitalized on a machine to live.
  2.  The dying person is probably in a lot of pain, with or without meds, even on the machine, and if the family is just keeping the person around because they can’t part with him, is selfish. Because they’re making said person live in pain just so they can stay content and not embrace the inevitable change death brings.
  3. The people see the pain that the person is in and choose to let them suffer.
  1. He’s gonna die. He ain’t gonna keep bugging you for stuff after (s)he’s finally gone.
  2. It’s honor. You’re honoring the person’s life by carrying out the last wants of them.
  3. If not to honor them it’s a way to carry them on in the surviving people’s lives. They, themselves cannot go on, but their wishes can.

I don’t really know why I wanted to talk about that today but that’s just what I ended up with. So onto my other letter.


Dear Dad,                                                                                                                                                                  2.24.’12.

          How’ve you been? Hopefully better than me. I finished that writing thing and entered it. A lot of people liked it. And my teacher even read it to Hannah’s seventh grade class. I helped a girl find God today, Daddy. It was surreal. I held Hannah too, after revival was over, I didn’t give a rat’s a** about the no touching rule. That was me. She was crying because Luke’s dad died. You know that. That happened before you were gone. But she was crying also because Luke’s uncle now has the same thing and the chemo treatment to kill it, affects his kidneys and his kidneys suck off the bat. I learned last year in science that kidneys filter your blood. Uncle G has bad kidney’s too right? And that’s why Cousin’s girlfriend gave up one of hers right? I want to do something like that for someone today. Maybe a kidney, maybe a lung, most definitely blood though. As soon as I get over my fear of needles and looking at my own blood being drawn out of me.

         I hope I made you smile. I’m sorry I haven’t written you in a couple days. I’ve been busy and I’m gonna be even busier the next few days. My birthday’s in 3-4ish days, can you believe that? I remember you asking me how old I was every time my birthday rolled around and before I could answer you’d ask 3? Or 4? No older than 5 surely. And you’d smile. Before I always thought you were being mean but now I know that you were definitely not trying to flatter me. What 7yr old wants to be younger? Little kids look forward to being older. So if it wasn’t flattery, what was it? I know now. It’s that I’d always be your little girl no matter how old I got.  For that makes me smile a small somewhat sad smile. I love you, Dad. I do. I always will. That will never change. I love your little code messages like that one that nobody ever got. That I never got. Till now.

        Soccer tryouts weren’t this week. But they’re supposed to be next Monday and Tuesday. On my birthday. I’m excited. I’m a little nervous though. You’d never guess I was either though by the blank stare on my face right now. Tomorrow we’re going to Dylan’s birthday party, I think. And then I believe on Sunday, we’re going to visit’s Kris’ memorial. I cry just thinking about it. Because the last time I was there I was with you. You and I paused the longest. Nobody understood but me and you. We were in sync in that way. The last place I was even remotely similar to that of Kris’ memorial was when you took me shooting. Remember that? I do. You were always telling me survival tips. Remember how we got stuck in the sand in your brand new truck? I do. Danny helped us out, remember? Then we drove a little further and started shooting again this time with Danny. I remember you guys talking when you thought I couldn’t hear, saying how good an aim I have and how women have a thing for the automatic. I smiled and leisurely squeezed off more rounds. Danny has offered to take us shooting. I want Sister and Mom to learn how to shoot but then I want to be selfish. I want to be selfish and just keep our shooting as a you and I thing, a special thing just between you and me. However, I do want them to be able to protect themselves.

            Another thing that was between me and you is the wood. I want to get back to splitting and if possible I want to keep the business going. However, I split the wood. Uncle A and Uncle B see no reason to keep the splitter or conveyor around and there goes even more of you that I can still use. So deciding to wait on splitting, I wandered around the shop. I do that sometimes now. I found that log. The one we made those coasters out of? I want to make those and sell or give them away. Maybe even make a trademark stamp and make it official. Do you know what type of tree that log was off of? Do you remember what saw you used to cut it with? I don’t. This is why I need you here. To teach me the things you didn’t get to teach me yet, to show me how to do the things you always just did for me. To watch wrestling with me, to watch Bonanza with me. To kick or toss a ball around with me. To listen to my newest paragraph of my story. To laugh at my little scream of terror as my chickens came towards me. To fence in the newest hole in the dog pen. To keep the peace between me and Sister and me and Mom. And more importantly, ask me what’s wrong when nobody else knew I was upset. That’s what i miss about you. How nobody else understood me but you did. And now I don’t have you. Now nobody gets it. Now I’m alone. There’s nobody sitting out there with me in the shop no more. I’m not keeping anybody company anymore. I miss you.                           -Love you forever and always, eshy

Psssst, Dad. P.S. The world is full of 747’s. I think I got a chuckle out of you. 

Well thanks for tuning in and reading today’s letter, folks. Come back again soon.     -The Determined, eshy,

Dear Whoever…, #55

February 18, 2012


Dear Whoever Still Reads My Blog After My Latest Vanishing Act,                                                                                    2/17/’12

“Eventually you will come to understand that love heals everything, and love is all there is.”  -Gary Zukav

“For your born writer, nothing is so healing as the realization that he has come upon the right word.”  -Catherine Drinker Bowen

“Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity.”  -Hippocrates

        I know I haven’t posted in what 2-3 months. I’ve been dealing with stuff you can’t even begin to imagine. I’m not healing yet. I’m just thinking of the idea and wondering how long it will be till I can get there and begin the healing process. Anywho, because of a suggestion from someone, I’ll be on a little more often I hope. It won’t be the same. Nothing ever is after a change. But I’ll have some semi-regular posts hopefully in there too. However to be more specific, the suggestion was to write letters to someone specifically, through my letters you’ll know who it is, or you’ll try to figure it out I suppose. They’ll be inside a regular post with their own sub-header. The person whom I am writing these to, doesn’t know and doesn’t probably care. I don’t really know what will be in them though. I guess that will depend on the day. I don’t care if you comment on them but understand these are more for me than for you. These are for me so that I might take a step(or a leap) towards healing. Without further ado.


Dear Dad,      2.17.12

       The birds will always sing. That’s what I thought today as the hospice counselor came and talked to us. I was staring at my bracelet, feeling the little bird over with my thumb. The birds will always sing in the morning, even after a storm. They’ll always have their songs. The birds are kinda like people I guess. But people don’t often realize the beauty of the morning, instead they grunt because they have to get up, when so many others don’t get up. I got up this morning to the counselor. I like him better than that female one I’ve been seeing. They’re giving me the option of switching to this one as my main shrink but you know how I am with change. That’s the problem actually, you knew me better than anybody else. Now you’re gone and that leaves me alone and therefore, misunderstood. I’d like to tell you that people aren’t forgetting you already, but they are. Uncle A and Uncle B aren’t being the best with helping us. They stress us out a lot. We got the houses and shop rekeyed. Uncles A & B want to sell everything you owned without mine or Mom’s or Sister’s input. I think that’s a jerk move but they don’t care. I got my ingrown ripped out and that acid put in again, two weeks after you left. Soccer tryouts are next week ya know? I remember when I was nervous about volleyball tryouts and when I told you I had made the team all you said was “I figured you would”. I’m nervous but I don’t think that many good people are trying out. There isn’t that many returners. I’ll have to take off your bracelet, I know you understand. I’ve been sleeping on your side of Mom’s bed. It’s weird. I wish I had some of your clothes that smell like you but you didn’t wear any regular clothes the last few months. I wish I still had you. I wish I could go back and be little again. I wish you could catch me one more time. I wish you could hold me tight. I wish your breath was on my neck at night. I wish you were here watching a race or Bonanza. I wish you didn’t have to go through the pain that you did. I wish that you and Brother are together again finally. I wish I didn’t have to be responsible for the stuff that I am now. But if wishes were fishes even beggars would eat. The house is quiet. Too quiet. Sister went to a basketball game. Mom’s outside. Brother went to your service ya know? I think he’s playing mind games. I haven’t worked on your book that I promised you. I’m entering a writing contest though. We’re gonna go visit the cross soon probably on Brother’s birthday or mine. I wish you were here to tease me about my age too. I’ma go to the park now, ‘kay? To practice for soccer since I didn’t keep up that running program I said I was gonna do. Hope you’re okay and loving the life you have now. Hope you’re healed and happy. I’m gonna make you proud and smile okay? I’ma try my best. I love you forever. -Love, eshy,

Dear Whoever… #53,

December 18, 2011


Dear Whoever Has Seen Freshly Pressed Lately,                                                                                 12-17-2011

“The past is behind, learn from it. The future is ahead, prepare for it. The present is here, live it.” -unknown

“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.”-unknown

“One reason God created time was so that there would be a place to bury the failures of the past.”-unknown

       When I log into, I always check the Freshly Pressed tab thing and see if any titles catch my eye. Sometimes there is none. Sometimes there’s one. Or sometimes on occasion there will be three or four that sound interesting. Well this Freshly Pressed post caught my eye cause it was about letters. A letter to her past self. Her younger self. I thought that was interesting because it reminded me of a song that I love.

If I could write a letter to me
And send it back in time to myself at 17
First I’d prove it’s me by saying look under your bed
There’s a Skoal can and a Playboy no one else would know you hid
And then I’d say I know it’s tough
When you break up after seven months
And yeah I know you really liked her and it just don’t seem fair
All I can say is pain like that is fast and it’s rare

And oh you got so much going for you going right
But I know at 17 it’s hard to see past Friday night
She wasn’t right for you
And still you feel like there’s a knife sticking out of your back
And you’re wondering if you’ll survive
You’ll make it through this and you’ll see
You’re still around to write this letter to me

At the stop sign at Tomlinson and Eighth
Always stop completely don’t just tap your breaks
And when you get a date with Bridgette make sure the tank is full
On second thought forget it that one turns out kinda cool
Each and every time you have a fight
Just assume you’re wrong and dad is right
And you should really thank Mrs. Brinkman
She spent so much extra time
It’s like she sees the diamond underneath
And she’s polishin’ you ’til you shine

And oh you got so much going for you going right
But I know at 17 it’s hard to see past Friday night
Tonight’s the bonfire rally
But you’re staying home instead because if you fail Algebra
Mom and dad will kill you dead
Trust me you’ll squeak by and get a C
And you’re still around to write this letter to me

You’ve got so much up ahead
You’ll make new friends
You should see your kids and wife
And I’d end by saying have no fear
These are nowhere near the best years of your life

I guess I’ll see you in the mirror
When you’re a grown man
P.S. go hug Aunt Rita every chance you can

And oh you got so much going for you going right
But I know at 17 it’s hard to see past Friday night
I wish you’d study Spanish
I wish you’d take a typing class
I wish you wouldn’t worry, let it be
I’d say have a little faith and you’ll see

If I could write a letter to me
To me

       As a writer who loves music and the lyrics in the music almost as much as their words…this song is amazing. Why, you may be thinking? Well that is simple. From the lyrics you can gather what type of guy the artist is and what type of life he has led. You immediately know if he’s happy with his life or not. The reader -the listener has a pretty good idea of what happened to “Aunt Rita”. The listener of the song can see his back round and imagine the setting, the seventeen-year-old studying for that algebra test thinking of the bonfire rally the whole time, or him taking out Bridgette on a date, or him getting dumped by his long-time girlfriend. So it:

       Anyways, back to my original reason for posting this, that blog post on Freshly Pressed. It’s here: Essentially the same thing. I like the song version better in my opinion but then again, he is a professional singer.  I love these letters and when I get old enough to really reflect on my life, well then, you better believe I’m going to write a few of these. Heck, if I still have a blog then, if I have this blog, which is a real possibility, well then, I’ll even post them for you. I have lived through a lot already but who am I addressing it to? Dear Infant Me? Doesn’t quite sound right does it? I love hearing and reading letters like this though. They’ve inspired many venting letters of this sort, and from those, this blog idea, and from that the Dear Whoever’s everyone seems to like, ’cause if ya didn’t, you wouldn’t be reading this I assume. Anyways, enjoy and look out for the December/January contest that I’m working on setting up.

                                                                                                                          Forever and always, eshy,

P.S. The song is called Letter To Me, by Brad Paisley, in the country genre, on the album Fifth Gear. Or is it 5th Gear? Anyways all his albums and songs are very real and very awesome. I love him. But my sister loves him more. Too bad he’s married. Not to my sister though. I think she’s now obsessed and wanting to marry Blake Griffin.

P.P.S. Sorry that the quotes don’t really relate to the post. But in a way they do.

P.P.P.S. I swear that one month I’ll write twenty posts and fill up a whole category of 20 Dear Whoevers. I got a wallet today by the way, not that it matters. *grumbles* Why am I talking to myself again? Agh! Well I ordered it online. Hopefully it will come soon. That was my Christmas present to myself. Okay well nighty-night. Technically goodmorning now but anywho—ciao.


Dear Whoever…, #52

December 13, 2011



Dear Whoever Cares Enough To Listen To Me Rant/Vent,                                                                        December 12th, 2011

Well you wanted more casual posts. Every once and awhile. So here’s one. This is essentially what most bloggers do. They journel the days of their lives online for everyone to see. My life is very complicated to an outsider, as most lives are, so do your best to follow because I’m not explaining every part you don’t know the context to.

My day was…horrific. Well not really when you consider some of the other days I’ve had this month and last. My life is filled with only the downs it seems. I feel like a failure at everything even though I know I’m not. I’m a failure as a friend because I didn’t know Alexis tried to commit suicide. I feel like a failure as a daughter because I’m constantly being yelled at for not doing a good enough job, for whining, for everything even though I know I do my best at everything. I feel like a fail at school because I don’t have a 4.0 GPA and some people do, I get crap for being an honor student but not having the special little 4. I do have a 3.995 GPA thank you very much. I’m a fail at school because I got 1 problem wrong and I have a B in one of my classes even though I know I’m not at risk of failing the class. I’m a fail at being a sister because my sister won’t confide in me or rarely talk to me. I feel like a fail at singing because I always hear wonderful voices that are always on time. I try to find the positive, the good, the just, the honesty, the courage, the beauty, in everything, in the life that surrounds me. I try but I fail at that too because I give into the excuse that there is so much grey, and darkness, and bad in the world that it’s too hard to find the good. I feel like a fail as a human because I am a black sheep, so to speak, I do not think regular thoughts, I wonder about death and life, the meaning of life, and what I’m doing alive, I wonder about stupid stuff, I have to dive into the complexity of something to understand the simple parts, I am a failure in every possible way. But even as I say that I just know it’s not true. I mean I tried to journel, I lost my journel. I feel horrible even though I know I’m not a complete failure. I mean, I have all A’s in my studies and I know some people who are actually failing the same studies. I feel like a failure as a friend once again because I had to go out with, and then break up with Jacob, and ruin our friendship at the same time. What a mistake that was. I’m also a fail at being a friend because I cannot tell my “friends” any of this. I cannot tell them the hell I go through constantly. What it’s like to be yelled at every moment you’re awake. The hell of looking at the strongest man in your life and seeing him wither away, the hell of not going to sleep for fear those words were your last words to him. The hell of watching him fall. Of catching him. Of the pain as your back slams into the fence as you lose balance while catching him. The tears constantly falling and stinging at your eyes ready to fall. I feel like a failure as a daughter because I see all these moms and daughters walking through the mall together and I don’t have that, I can’t have that, and I want that. I want a relationship with my mom that she doesn’t want or have time for. If not a relationship, at least to be able to confide in my mom and tell her my thoughts about our situation. Why the hell do I have to be the strong one and watch her cry? In the movies it was the kids who broke down and ran to their mommys and started crying. Not the other way around. Why can’t I do that?  I’m a fail at being a person someone would want to be around because of the sarcastic, mean, pessimistic, negative monster this battle has turned me into when I used to be nice and have friends that I could talk to and laugh with, and be myself around instead of being this guarded dragon, ready to yell and attack at any second. What good does it have to have a councilor and get no council. To be able to tell nobody. To not being able to explain how your throat gets tight when you think of the days when you could just be a kid, surrounded and joking with your family. What is it like to have to grow up and be an adult at 13. What’s it like to listen to your mom talk about how life’s going to be awesome after your dad dies? It’s not fun. It’s not easy. It is life. And I’m sick of it. I want to scream but I can’t because I know they’d hear me as they are only in the living room. To raise your voice even a fraction of an octave in anger and no you’re going to get yelled at or backhanded. What’s it like to sit with your “friends” in silence because you didn’t get to go see that movie premire, or you didn’t get to go to that sleepover because you had to stay home and babysit a grown, dying man and feed him every two hours. Both meds and liquid food through a tube in his stomach. What’s it like to have to go to a lawyer and sit in as they discuss wills, and who gets what, at what age, and have to transalate. What’s it like to force the pain-inducing spit in your throat down. What’s it like to have to do the gardening, your schoolwork, mantain cars and animal pens, cook, clean, babysit, and take care of 2 dogs, 9 chickens, and 5 ducks(a small farm)? The word may never know. The kids my age will never understand. That’s why I don’t talk to them and I think them immature and spoiled and selfish. But I can’t blame them for being a kid. Being a teenager. It’s not their fault I was robbed. Nobody understands, but the family, the spouse, the child of someone fighting cancer…….they already know. Or else it’ll be quick learning.

Here’s some quotes I thought were cool even though they don’t nescessarily relate:

-Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you. — Marsha Norman ((WordPress actually gave me this one.))

“As I said there is nothing wrong with failing. Pick yourself up and try it again. You never are going to know how good you really are until you go out and face failure.” -Henry Kravis  ((The last name of this guy strikes me as being familiar. Wasn’t some guy named Lenny Kravitz or something? I think it’s one of the Hunger Games cast…))

-“Don’t be afraid to fail. Don’t waste energy trying to cover up failure. Learn from your failures and go on to the next challenge. It’s OK to fail. If you’re not failing, you’re not growing.” -H. Stanley Judd ((I LOVE the way this guy thinks.<3 He put it simply and easy to understand and it’s true. Awesome. Awesome. Awesome.))

                                                                                               I’m now passing the magic talking stick, eshy,

P.S. I hate sharing personal stuff. I also hate how many times I used the word “fail” and “failure” but ya know…..I don’t care. This was a vent sooo….doesn’t matter.

P.P.S. I’m a fail at writing blog posts, this post is an excellent example of that.

P.P.S. I think I ought to ask about therapy or some crap because this counciling isn’t working and no way am I taking meds, man I would die if people knew I had to take happy pills. And no doubt my mother would open her mouth and tell all her friends.

[Mini Letter Inside of Big Letter, Shall We Call It: Dear Whoever….#52A? Feel free to read even though it’s for a specific person who will never read it.]

Dear Whoever…, 12/12/11

I’ll keep this short because I know you don’t like reading. I never understood that- how we are so very much alike, that everyone that knows me immediately knows I’m your daughter, but you hate to read and write and do so as little as you can but I love to read and write and do so as much as I can. I love you. But I hate you. Pointless, I know but the world does not often have logic, I have learned. I have learned a lot from you over these 13 years. This is not farewell, this is not the last goodbye. It’s merely a letter that is never to be sent. I know you don’t use computers so I have nothing to fear. Anyways, today when you were yelling at me after I caught you from falling, after my back got cut up from being slammed into the dog pen from impact, after the bitter, stinging tears started burning my eyes and I held out my hands waiting to catch you if you fell again, I learned something. I learned why you yell so much. It is not to be in control. It is not to appear powerful. It is because it is easier for you to yell and look mad to others(mostly me), then for others to see you cry and sad. I haven’t figured you out. You should be scared. But then you shouldn’t be. Because exposing this tidbit of you, means exposing the same tidbit about me, and I’m not ready to do that. This tidbit, about the yelling is better than letting the sadness show, well that’s just one more way I’m like you.  -your daughter, eshy, (Kayla-Ann)

Dear Whoever…, #50

December 3, 2011


Dear Whoever Is Reading eshysletters Now,                                                                                           12-3-2011

“Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.”                                  -C.S. Lewis

“About the most originality that any writer can hope to achieve honestly is to steal with good judgment.” -Josh Billings

       I’ll get to my breakdown of the chosen quotes in a minute. As for now chill out, eat your tough cookies, and now you have to do a poll! Ha! -Or you could just scroll down…No! Please do the poll, they help. Whatdya wanna get outta eshysletters? I haven’t blogged much but it is Novemeber and I am trying to write a 50K+ word novel, my first 50,000 word novel. But enough about that because isn’t that what everyone else is blogging about? Or was blogging about since it’s over now. Anyways, once again I’ll remind you how eshysletters is different then other blogs, I (normally) don’t talk about me or my life. It’s a lot easier to write/type blog posts when you’re writing for yourself to read but when you’re writing for someone else to read and enjoy, well it’s a helluva lot easier. The writing quotes are to celebrate the end of November and the beginning of December, even though the first quote kinda applies to what I was talking about eshysletters being original. I don’t know, I’m tired and still reeling from NaNo gimme a break.

     Speaking of celebrating the end of Nov. and the beginning of Dec., isn’t that how I tricked myself into the horrible mess of having a contenst this time of the month every month, in the first place? Yeah, so that sentence might be confusing but do you’re best cause I ain’t explaining. This is a rather casual post for me isn’t it? It is, it’s kinda bugging me. Anyways, it’s time for a contest! Yeah, how fun right! I know, I’m like half asleep while typing this and showing like no emotion whatsoever but……….since it’s off the top of my head, here’s what you’re competing for.

  1. a handwritten eshysletters letter written by me, eshy
  2. a set of backslapper(BackSlapper?) stickers which are ridiculously funny and you’re supposed to peel them and slap ’em on someone’s back and they say stuff on them like “I failed my IQ test” or stuff like that.

There’s to be 1 winner that’s it. So here’s what to do to enter, which even if you don’t want to claim prizes, you should still enter.

How To Win:

        -I’ll randomly select a comment on December 10th that meets all 3 criteria, whoever I choose will be the winner. Even if you don’t win, I’m going to be reading all the comments and I’d love some feedback so E-N-T-E-R! (that was me as a cheerleader)


       -send an email over to and I’ll reply ASAP. Be sure to write “eshysletters contest” in the subject line.


                 Thanks for hanging out this week. I’d apperciate if you DIDN’T comment on this post unless to enter the contest. Any questions should be sent to the email above. Thanks again for tuning in and reading this post! See ya next time(Dec. 12th)!                                                                                                                                        -love your favorite blogger, eshy,


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