I didn’t want to write anything yesterday. It was a “bad” day for me. I know Rachel’s daughter was watching me swim in the morning, and I was afraid she might come down. After swimming, I went upstairs to paint. Lanie was locked in the bathroom for a long time. Sometimes when I paint I have to sketch it first, sort of like practicing. But other times like yesterday, it was like my hand was not connected to my mind. The strokes mean nothing until I'm done, and then the painting just IS. I’m not really telling it very well. It’s like I see the painting inside, but not with my eyes. When the painting happens like that, I forget time and space and everything. My body stays there, but the rest of me leaves. So I had an accident and Grandmother got really mad and made me cry and cry. Rachel is going to start a chart for wet and dry days, and she is going to make grandmother stop yelling and hating on me. That might help some, but Sage will never like me. If she ever knows any of this stuff ,she will never be my friend. I just wish I could be different because then Sage and I . . . I don’t know; I just know the painting I did today; it was her, and I haven’t even seen her yet.