Dear Seth,

I'm trying to stay up as late as possible (3:30 am and counting), to fall into a dreamless slumber. I don't want to dream of you tonight. It hurts worse that way. To be so close to something in my dreams to touch, smell and hear is pure fucking torture. Yet these thoughts couldn't be farther from the truth in reality. It's just not fair. It's shit.

All I wanted was a chance that I don't think that I'll ever get. There is just so much going on with my health, which has been thankfully at bay for the past two days, that I now have to take care of my body and hope for the best. God I never wanted to be a freaking cat lady or like the lady that Barry Manilow sing of in Copacabana.

Yeah it's a sucky night for me.

p.s. I love you