23 April, 1969: Dear Mark
These words I am about to say will probably be said tonite if you call. At this moment I am in a such a crazy awful mood. It really depresses me to hear + see you worry so much - about golf in particular. I have begun to wonder if maybe the fault here lies in myself. Maybe I am monopolizing your time. Maybe I have made you think that I must be the most important thing in your life - that I want you to forget your other interests and concentrate on only me. I am hoping this is not what you think. It wouldn't be very fair of me to expect that of you. Furthermore, it isn't even what I want from you. I hope you're making sense out of this, for I really want you to understand. I hate so much to see you upset but I also like to know that you talk to me about it when it's bugging you. I love to listen to you - whatever it is you have to say - even tho I may not fully understand the basics of golf.
I've just felt so rotten about this. I didn't really get the full picture of the situation until today. Mark, golf is part of you and I'll never ask you to give it up for me; that or anything like which is yours. I hope nothing I have previously said has mislead you to think this of me. Maybe I'm wrong in thinking this stems from me. But I cannot help but feel bad. Truthfully, I don't expect the trouble to lie in me - (seeing that it may be a boost to my feminine ego.) and couldn't make me feel any better about this.
Maybe I'm just beginning to feel your inner feelings my self - but whatever it may be, I'm glad I'm feeling it because it brings me closer to you.
Love,
Donna
And I did, love Donna, in a way which only high school boys (and girls) might understand. So lovely, beautiful family, always accepting of me.
And multiple thanks to Pedro (Peter Donahue) for the night he cut of Donna's jerk-off former boyfriend Patrick from trying to tail us in his Mustang.
Guardian Angels, all my life, there have been these guardian angels, watching over me.
With Love to All,
Happy Thanksgiving.
Mark
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