*Saturday March 21, 1998 (7:36pm)*
...last night all my bitterness and anger came back to me...I am not doing as well as
I had thought....I was thinking about how Matt bought be two $1.50 books for
christmas....and I became so angry I couldnt sleep...it seems so clear to me
now...he never really loved or cared for me...I was here and he had nothing better
to do with his time...*sigh*...of course it's the tought that counts but...I would have
rather gotten nothing at all instead of two stupid assed poetry books that I will never
read...and inside he wrote lil messages..."Missa; these poems offer you hope and
goodwill, you will get much out of them. Love Matt B****...Merry Christmas
1997"....this in William Blake's "songs of Innocence and songs of
experince"....."Missa; I think you will love these poems as they are about everyday
life, no truth untold. Love Matt B****"...this of Emily Dickinson's "selected
poems"...goddamn him!!...I am truely pissed of at that coward right now...I want to
hunt him down and casterate the bastard!...not only did he beg me to stay with
him...then three weeks later break up with me because his friends told him to....he
doesnt even show up to get the things I asked him to....what a fucken spinless sack
of shit!...if he feels his choice was right to break up then why cant he come here
and pick up his things?...he cant even face me....and I wrote him an e-mail
reminding him that I dont want his shit in my house anymore and he cant even be
bothered to reply?.....it's cold and gloomy here so I'm gonna curl up on the couch
and watch tv....