Letter to the Author

Sun, 05/10/2015 - 09:18 -- ccballi
This laptop is humming, overheating because the fan is smothered by bedsheets.
The screen is too bright for my eyes in this dim bedroom.
The computer waits for me to type something, but we just sit and stare at one another.
I punch in a few pixelated letters, then CLAKCLAKCLAKCLAKCLAK on the backspace because
well not maybe its just that okay i think ive got it wait no
Sometimes I feel like a typo.
The doctors tell me I live so sick because of these mutations in my freak genes
It's all in my DNA
And sometimes I feel like when the author was typing out this sequence of GAs and TCs
Maybe he sneezed
I know in my heart God doesn't sneeze, but my mind says some really weird things when it lies here unable to move
Or maybe God's fingers are just so large that when they strike a wrong key he doesn't mind
But I know God doesn't make typos
God, why couldn't you just backspace? Why did you spell me like this? No one can read me.
I'm illegible, unintelligible
I don't make sense to doctors or loved ones
or to me. I can't make sense of anything.
Teach me to read, because this must only make sense to you.
I hurt and am always confused.
You made me tired, but you also give the sweetest rest.
 
 
Author's response: Child, you haven't read the whole story yet

 

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