You guys. I just killed Anna.
She was one of my first and most favorite characters. Anna is an amazing character...I started using her when I was 8 or 9. She was an imaginary friend played by my 3 foot tall Barbie doll (Just as creepy as it sounds...don't ask, my grandmother bought it for me). She and her brothers and sister, (who were then named Chris, Laura, and Jed at the time instead of Will, Mollie and Jake), attended my one room school house in my basement, were treated in my 1900 children's hospital in the guest room, and I had long, deep conversations with Jed/Jake on his front porch/my bed. The family appeared in some of my first writings when I was about 9 or 10, and on and off when I was a little older.
I forgot about her for a while, and then about 2 or 3 years ago, I grew her up from 7-8 to 15-17, put her in modern times, gave her a personality, a passion, a diagnosis and a boyfriend. I also changed the siblings names. But Anna...had to stay Anna Faith. I've written literally nearly a million words about/from/with Anna in the last 2 years.
And tonight, I came home from walking my dog. I'd been thinking about a letter I would write to celebrate 10 years of knowing my best friend, and began thinking of something similar for Anna's boyfriend to write to her. I got home, typed for over an hour straight, completely ignored my family. and by time I was done, she was dead at the tender age of 33. WHAT?
Assure me that I'm not crazy, like my sister thinks I am. I can't handle all of these feelings!!
