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 I was crying inside because it was impossible.
I hate myself for it. I feel like now I have lost so many experiences...I will always wonder about my first baby, what she (I believe that our baby was a girl) would of looked like, what she could of became, and everything about her...I wonder where she is.
I need you just to listen to me, tell me how you feel and hold me and let me cry in arms...just like you did when I found out that I was pg.
You are special.


"What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is -- and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.] Your letter from Chicago interested me very much. It caused me to think of the time I was there several years ago. I hope your trip will end as pleasantly as it has begun. Things have been rather dull for me since you left, for there is not much happening now. Most of our friends, as you know, are away. I have been keeping pretty busy, however, and this has helped to keep me from feeling depressed. Nevertheless, there are times when I recall the happy days we had together, and then I miss you terribly... Love... "Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?"Tom wheeled suddenly and said:"Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing.""Say -- I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK-- wouldn't you? Course you would!"Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said:"What do you call work?""Why, ain't THAT work?"Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered care- lessly:"Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer.""Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?"