To: Anonymous #4 (Be at peace)

Written today from 6:43pm-6:50pm, taken from a journal.

Hopefully rage has subsided
like the distant memories of yesteryear.
I also hope this to be the last entry in this journal,
the last token of rememberance of you.
I hope you are at peace,
many levels below the ground.
One cannot hate the dead.
So, as long as you don't form into a collective mist
of my imagination and contact me from beyond,
I am at peace with you, too.
I presume you are in hell,
but hope you escape someday,
while the devil sleeps
and you hop the pearly gates
and rest amongst the grassy meadows in heaven.
I well up inside, happy that my thoughts of you
no longer tie you to this Earth,
but calmly set you free to the next.
I will remember the good times.
And since your passing,
I grew angry.
I went from being angry at you,
to being angry at your passing.
I fed a cancerous tumor that grew within.
Therefore it is necessary to stop
or it will be the death of me, too.
You made me "wish impossible things."
But now, in my peace, I realize
the impossible does not exist.
That is why it is impossible.
Therefore, wishing it, does not exist either.
And neither do you... anymore.
If I knew where your grave was
I'd take you flowers.
But maybe it is best to stay away,
and let you rest...
let us rest.