"But why are you sad? I mean, you seem sad, and you weren't so before."
Hallie thinks I am sad. Hallie is correct.
Hallie kind of reminds me of a garden gnome. She's little, and her face is sort of squishy looking because of her deep crease-y wrinkles. She also wears delightful skirts.
And she thinks I'm sad.
I am. I am sad. And I'm tired. Most of the time, most minutes of the day, I'd rather give up.
I'm faltering. I really don't believe I'm going to make it all the way. It would be nice if someone believed me. Who says it's all going to be alright?
Hallie also has a lisp, and not the greatest manners.
