>also, second part >>49890431
It was hard following Madoka because I was very hungry, but I couldn't stop. The clouds were closing in and she wouldn't stop no matter how loud I screamed her name. At some point I fell and scraped my knees, but I did not cry. I could not let Madoka die, mother; she has a dream life and doesn't know it. I don't know how bad the discussion with her mother was, but there is nothing more important than family. When we were close to the water she stopped, and then I saw it. The thing in the skies.
I may have lost consciousness at that point. Somehow, everything was back to its original place when I woken up. Like that never happened. My memories of that day are blurry, but vivid. I tried talking about it with some girls from class, but they don't seem to remember that day or even Madoka. They laughed at me, mother. They think I'm losing it and so do I. Why do I "remember" her when no one else does? I can't blame them for not believing me: not even my excuses for not bringing the school material to class work anymore.
But I don't regret telling them that, even though now I am seen as a liar. One of my classmates was intrigued by that story and we have talked a lot about these days. I'm not sure if she believes me, but it feels so warm. She brings a big bento every day so we can share, and I know she knows about my situation but won't bring it up. She helps me not caring whether I know or not. So, things have been better, mother. I still have problems but at least I can talk to Homura-chan.
Thank you, mother, for sending me a friend.