Special

"The idea of the faery/both disturbs and entrances:/ could they really be more monstrous/than the hearts of mortal men?"

What else I notice about Christmas is how many people suffer. Suffer like our Christ, but not in pain, but loneliness, self-hatred. I cry and pray for my friends. God, they're heroes. You should know that. I have things to worry about myself--a sister with a death wish, departing from the Roses--Oh, the Roses, the roses. I used to be supreme and powerful. Elegant and beautiful. Now I'm just a teen-aged girl who loves her friends. Would die for her friends. That doesn't give me more money to give to them, does it? The people who need it? I spent all day a few weeks ago carol-ling for Salvation army, and it still doesn't help those I love.  For now? Help my hero.

She's in a lot of pain, you know. Rat.

Not that I mean *She's* a rat. Like a rat to the Faery. Rats... I can sing their praises morning, noon, and night, it won't change how you feel, will it? They're useless scum. They're also incredibly intelligent, quick to die, and we exterminate them. We're like that to the Fae. They can wave their pianist's hands and wipe us away if they chose. If they were real and chose.

God can wipe us away. God? Don't wipe my friend away. She's the smartest rat I know, with me in second. Help. Please? Please help? I try, I honestly do, but there's so little I can give... Help me help her. She needs someone. Can someone be good, somehow? Please? She needs love and to heal and money... so many things. I'm so worried.