hell, Echoes. Now the sand thing kinda makes sense. There are two things i refuse to talk about cause it hurts to damn bad as it is. My t asked me awhile back to write down about it. I started to but got to a certain time of something and couldnt even write no more. She wants to know about that. The other thing is something that happened a few times and now i have dreams awake and asleep of walking down royal st. and not backing down to a gun in my face. Makes me nervous talking to her about that because thats a daily wish that it would happen again. I know the way that looks, thats why i dont want to talk to her about it.

I hope this sand thing is different.