I couldn't stop crying when I really just wanted to be alone with her and talk to her. I wanted to touch her and let her hear me there, even though she's distant in some deep dark abyss. Tomarrow I will visit again, and the day after that and however long it will take.

I know she'll be crushed when they tell her Ari died. I can handle the thought of her being in pain and the arduous recovery. I can't handle this. Ari was her life.

I know that the universe has reasons for things but this is truly unbearable. As Will said, I support any path she chooses, though she seems to have so little choice, since she's lost in a coma.

Of course, I know other people who have suffered more and came back around. And I know people who have suffered the same and didn't come back around. I have nothing unresolved with her, I'm happy about that.

I'm just not willing to give up tea-time with her, or riding bikes around town, or aimlessly talking on the phone, or going to her house and sitting on the floor, or going to the bookstore with Ari and looking at art magazines, or just being with her.

Will and I cried in each other's arms. Her whole family there was trying so hard to be positive and stoic. Will and I went to the bathroom and said it how it is: it's fucking horrible. No, she doesn't look beautiful, as they said. No, it doesn't seem good. Yes, it is critical beyond comprehension, and yes, she can die.

I understand profound suffering. I understand that things like this happen. I just need to suffer this out. A lot of people are going to suffer about this.

Well, we thought about what we will do if she comes out just fine. We'll take her in if it works out that way. It's important she has contant supervision and attention. I guess in a way this is her break from things.

I feel better writing this. My paper diary ran out of pages and I just found out today. She got hit by a truck on Sunday night and I found out this afternoon on Wednesday. Renata's mom found me through Will and his work. I'm pissed that Igor, who knows how to get in touch with me, made so little effort stepping forward in this.

I'm emotional about all of it. My best friend is fucked up. God knows how she'll turn out. Somehow, I can picture myself reading this to her some time in the faraway future. I've got my candle her and thinking about her crying. I've got hope. I'm just suffering.