Dear Mr. Kephart,You know, sometimes things are just bound to be horrible for you.And, that
s just how my life is. It
s always going to be horrible, I think. I thinkthat I
d rather rot in the fiery pits of Hades
dungeons and what not than be here in this bloody place. No mom, sad. No dad, even worse. No family, orphan. No heart left, no love left, no home, or place to be left for her, who cares? I care. Because I know it hurts first hand. Sometimes I wonder if there
s something wrongwith me, is there something wrong with me? Why aren
t I good enough for a family?It doesn
t need to be perfect; it doesn
t have to be rich. I don
t need my own room. Idon
t mind sharing a bed, I don
t mind walking the stupid dog once in a while or taking out the trash, I don
t mind getting up early and getting ready for church onSundays, or doing the dishes, the laundry. Watching the younger ones. Mopping the kitchen, anything. I
d do all that a million times just for a family who loves me, because I really am starting to wonder what love feels like. What is love? Because I have no idea. I wish I did. I wish I could compare it to something besides the opposite feeling of being rejected, or stupid, unwanted, never good enough, a bother. The opposite of that? That opposite sounds like heaven. Why? What
s wrong with me? I
d do anything, I really would. I want a place to be. I want love.I want it more than anything, more than food or water or a coat on a blizzard cold winter
s day, more than a violinist wants a golden violin, more than anything in the entire world. I want it so much that it
s almost bigger than me. Bigger thanthe yearn in my heart, but as big as acceptance in yours.Dear Daisy,I know it
s pathetic that I
m thirty-two and I still keep a diary, and evenmore so I write to you
I see you all the time, on the streets, I
m worried but I never let myselfutter a word to you, I don
t even know your real name, I just think that Daisy fits you. You have that golden hair and blue eyes. I think that
s the perfect description of a Daisy. But I wouldn
t know. Because I don
t really know anything.Yeah, I
m a teacher, an English teacher at that but still. I don
t know anything; I have no wife, no children. I have
my children at school, yes, but they don
t count. Even though, sometimes in my head I pretend they do. I want a family somuch. But I don
t know anything. I don
t know anything about love or family or friends. I
m not mean, I try to be nice, some of the faculty eats with me, and the kids like me, I over hear that my class is children
s favorite class. But I don
t knowwhat
s like to be anything but alone. Because I don
t know anything and I
m alone. And I
m tiered of being that way. I have been ever since it started. I
m tiered of itall.Dear Mr. Kephart,Sometimes I start to wonder why it is that I want you. Not want you wantyou but fatherly, family want you. I want to be in you family the most of all.You
re a teacher, an English professor and I spend most of night writing to you. Although, I know you
d never read them. Maybe it
s better that way, but, I don
t thinkwe
ll ever get to know. I
ve been writing to you for years Mr. Kephart. When you pass me on the streets I see you and you wave. But can
t lift a finger to wave back,I
m to paralyzed by your strong smile, the smile I would want to tuck me into bedat night or hold me when I
m broken. Because, this whole family deal is breakingme, and I
m counting on you to pull me together. So, again tonight I see you on the street. You can see me, I know you can, I
m waiting for that smile, that wave. Because I
m only here to see you. The cops patrol this area to well to stay long, your head turns, no lift of the eyebrows or raise of the cheeks, no little nod oreven friendliness in your eyes. Not even a wave. Your eyes are sad and lonely and angry. I spent the rest of the night trying to figure out what I did wrong toyou. I decided. I do everything wrong.Dear Daisy,I see you every night when I take my walk. Every single time, I smile and I wave, and your eyes are hungry as they eat up my gesture and use it, and the
n you start to glow. You don
t smile exactly, no, but you smirk a little, glow. But it always annoyed me that you never waved back, you took my wave into your heart but you never gave me any gesture back for me to use in my heart. And I wanted that, I needed it. I really did. I got so angry! Seeing you glow, and not being able to share it, and my grandmother had just died. I was sad and broken and angry and I needed your gesture. So that night, I looked at you, but I didn
t wave.I almost glared. And you got a shade darker, but I was too angry with you to fix it. And I didn
t understand how it would affect both of us.Dear Mr. Kephart,I didn
t understand, and I was trying not to be selfish about it but I didn
t think it was fare to hurt me anymore than I
m already hurt. So I did come to see you on that everyday walk, I was there, but I was hiding. You couldn
t see me, but I could see you. You eyes swept toward the trash cans were I usually sat and waited for you and your eyes looked worried then you scanned everywhere else. I got so scared when you looked toward where I was, but you didn
t see me, because I wasn
t there and I felt like otherwise you didn
t really care. Do you care?You see, you just kept walking, so I thought I
d never know. And I was trying to read that expression on your face as you walked away. I couldn
t do it, but it waslike someone you loved punched you in the gut, you looked so bemused by the entire thing. I almost felt bad. And I felt like it was all my fault and I knew thatit was, but you hurt me to much for me to change it.Dear Daisy,You weren
t there. I searched threw all the places you waited with my eyesand I still couldn
t find you there, I didn
t think it was because of me, not yet at least, but maybe because you were running late or had somewhere to be. I don
t know. But I missed that glow. Because I just now realized I used your glow for me. My heart usually eats it up but without it
my heart hurts. I mean, it aches, itburns and it cries all the time. I can
t stand it, Dear Daisy. Come back to me.Dear Mr. Kephart,The days are colder and longer when you
re not around, or when, you don
t think I
m around. The sun sets and I
m in my hiding spot watching you pass. Depression clearly visible on your suddenly long and sullen face. What happened toyou? Was it me? Oh, yes, I hear you answer in my head, though I
ve never heard you speak; it is your entire fault. You tell me. And even though it
s really just myimagination I trust the little you inside my head. And I believe you. It is myentire fault. I should
ve done something
I would take away whatever I did wrong ina heart beat. But things are so dark without you to brighten them up, three whole days without your smile I
m afraid it
ll never be bright again. And I
m sure that ifit goes on like this it never will. You
re like the sun, Mr. Kephart. And I
m the moon. You reflect light onto me and make me shine, but if you go away
I go away.Dear Daisy,Where are you? What
s happened? What ever it is that happened, whoever started it, whatever, I
m sorry, I take full responsibility of everything, I
m sorry, I
mso, so sorry. I don
t know how to make it better between us; I don
t know how to fix things. I don
t know anything. I wish I did. I wish I could make all the thingsbetter between us, I wish I could sew up all these holes in my heart with the thread from your smiles. But haven
t seen it and it the only thing I need. When I saw that empty slot where you were it felt there was an empty slot in my soul. Because I
m swimming in my ocean of regrets and trying not to be swept away with thetide. I was so hopeful when I saw that corner and couldn
t see right there but I thought that maybe just maybe you might have been there. But, like you keep poking me in the eyes, you weren
t. And I
m so pathetic. I went home, and I couldn
t sleep, I wanted to cry but I wasn
t physically able. It
s like of all the things you tookwhen you left, you couldn
t even leave me my tears?Dear Mr. Kephart,Tonight when you were walking, your steps were heavier; each step seemedto take a toll on you. Like just moving hurt, your eyes were flashing and alive
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