Matthew. Dear, lovely, long legged saint Matthew. Prince of thoroughbreds. My lovely baby boy. My treasure, my precious. He's colicked again. He did this afternoon and the vet came and fixed him and when he got over the sedatives around ten he was in pain again. Mom and Diane drove to Auburn, nearly two hours away. They're coming back. Triggered by my fear, I guess. The daymares and the fits of sobbing, the deep dark depression I can't seem to find my way out of again. WHy do you need him, God? Why do you build me up and give me hope then tear my hear out of my chest and cut it into bloody ribbons to dangle in a display case somewhere? I have a headache. My eyes are red. I need an aspirin and a funny movie. I need my mom. I need Matt to stay alive. I need need need. But I never get. I hate my life. Hatehatehate. I want to just go curl up and die. Doesn't God realize that my life and career is OVER if He does this? I think He does. I think He's testing me. Test away. I will not fail again. Never again.