The final "gem" from my Grade Seven Diary. I found this, last week, written on another damp and lonely Thursday years ago...and I haven't been able to stop talking about healthy eyes since. How, at twelve, could I have had such an intimate understanding of optics?


Sera? What can I say about Sera? She was one else. Her face kinda jumped out at you, white and hollow, like a ghost who's touching you. She was funny, that girl, always keeping the most nervous habits so near and dear to her. Her nails were all bitten down. Her hair was matted and she chewed the ends of it. She trembled a lot. She didn't want to hold onto anything in this whole world.

I wanted to sweep her up, like broken curtains. I wanted to pick her up and let sweeping trails of her dress fall through my hands and I wanted to rip it off and leave only her pure self, and Sera, why'd you have to hurt me like that? Leave me with this woman who has healthy eyes? were starving and bleeding and I could take care of you, Sera. I could make things better.