Do not know how she did it

I do not know how my mother did it. I do not know how she wrote everything out from January to March of 1994 and being so sick--she had a knot, the size of an egg or golfball, that was coming out of her back and the cancer was everywhere. Everywhere.

I wonder if it was some sign or reason for me seeing Mr. Hot and Cold today--he seemed like a nice person! He truly seems like a nice person. I believe my mother and I believe that the utmost bizarre things happened in her career with him and the others. I believe it. I believe, too, there are accounts of the utmost bizarre things---I wonder what would be said if someone asked him what his problem with her was.

I hope I can find a man that is 100 times better than "Josh" and somehow those snapshots in my mind can be added onto, with pictures that can be seen and touched, with someone else.

I hope I'm sitting on the Oprah stage and after I talk about what really happened with me and "Josh" I can say or she can say, "But it's ok now, because you have met, I have met...Mr. Wonderful..."

How it would be so right.

I have to see these things happen--I've never been sure what "poetic justice" means---pondered it at times---the meaning---I have to see things come around in form, a peak, a justice, in a sense. Something has to happen and I have to see it.