Venting

4^th September 2012

Dear Cassi,

In all the letters I send and the overall talking about my day I thought I was venting. To me these letters are the lancing of infected wounds, and as I watch with fascination the pus runs. Now it seems as they are something else to you.

       

You apologized for venting in your letter and here I had felt bad for venting on my own. We express pain in different ways I guess. I look back and laugh because I’ve no more tears to cry or sobs to utter. As a boy I cried a lifetime in the darkness.

       

I never new comfort for crying so I guess I left it behind. Then tears are they to wash our eyes and perhaps my eyes have been made clear. Perhaps my pain should be my own and I should keep it to myself. So far as I can remember expressing pain has never done well for me and so I have kept it as a thing within.

       

When the hair on my had was still soft as a boy’s should be my pain drew

laughter and my blood drew jokes. So when I am struck I stiffen and the pain sobers me. This is who I am so worry not if I cry no tears and cry no tears for me. In my time on this earth these thinks have been well looked after and so I move on to more functional bits of life.

Find your strength, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal