Today Ernest Hemingway spoke to me. He’s a legendary author and journalist. He won the Nobel Peace Prize. He passed away on July 2nd. (Literary terms deem this dramatic irony. Or perhaps it’s considered situational irony? Regardless, it’s all kinds-a fucked up.) His ‘message’ took my breath away. That doesn’t happen easily these days.
A life story in six words? Six wouldn’t suffice to tell yours. However, Hemingway certainly chose his wisely.
Speaking of shoes; your collection rocks. You have three pairs of Jordans. Fly, blue Vans – Ugg slippers too.
No, I’m not writing in Haiku. I’m just making six word sentences. Six times two always equals twelve. Cancer always equals fuck, fucking you. I’m sad, tired, angry, and scared. Six is my fake therapy tonight.
You didn’t wear your baby shoes. Rest assure, they’ll remain forever yours.
Thank you for being my son.
I miss you; I love you.
Stay with me my Sweet Boy.