that you may never read these words
Or hear them,
And, even if you did,
You would not understand.
Yet, I feel the need to write this,
To try to make you understand . . .
You call me up, to see if I can come over,
To talk, to hang around, to have fun,
To do the things that friends do.
I tell you I cannot.
I can tell that you are upset with me for having other plans.
But, it cannot be helped.
You have so much free time,
To relax, to do what you want to, and to see your friends,
But I do not.
My school work must come first,
Before my leisure time,
Whether I like it or not.
You can never know what it is like.
You see, school has taken over my life.
I want to do other things desperately,
Sometimes so desperately
That I am willing to quit school.
I know I cannot.
It hurts me to tell you I cannot come over.
I feel so guilty after I hang up the phone,
And it almost makes me cry.
I worry sometimes that I will lose you as a friend.
I guess I am not the greatest friend in the world . . .
And so I apologize.
For not spending time with you,
For causing you so much pain.
But now I must stop writing this:
My school work is waiting . . .
January 28, 1996