Dearest Mother,

The things you must think of me now. It is so difficult to explain right now. It seems that I have been caught in a tornado. I think I saw it coming. The wind picked up. The sun turned off. The clouds formed a black sheet like an executioner's mask. And there it was. The twister. Sawing its way toward me. I knew then that I had...have...have only two choices. It stares at me now. I may either stand and wait for the unknown. Or I may try and laso (sic) the tornado. I will. I shall laso the tornado. And the sun will come out afterwards. A song once spoke words of truth to me.

"Never squeal on the pusher,
Don't lie to your mama,
Just do what you wanna,
And it'll be okay."

Greg