My mom brought me back a new skirt from Calgary. I love floral prints.

Today I'm going to write you a letter. I'll tell you everything. I tell you all those things that I keep secretly hidden in a shoebox at the back of my closet. Even though it has been 4 years since I've seen you, I want to feel as though that no one knows me better. Cause that's who we are. That's who we are.

I'm never nervous when I sing. Funny how you said it was the best you ever heard me sing that song the night that I was coughing so hard and so often that I was in a constant state of dizziness due to oxygen depervation.

I love that word. Oxygen. I like the look of the x-y-g all in a row.
Oxygen.

Today I'm going to finish my book because there is nothing else for me to do. I have to start your books (and finish them) before I move out in August otherwise I will scare myself and I'll have to sleep with all the lights on.

I'm not used to the city noise. Only trucks bellow down the highway behind my house, but I am sheltered by the noise by hundreds of trees.

I'm just waiting.