Dear whoever might be listening.
I am occupying a fatalistic space at the moment.
Every time we drive down the street, or turn the corner, or cross the road I think,
"we might die".
And when we reach the other side, or continue smoothly, engine running, baby gurgling in the backseat, I am surprised.
I wonder if I'm normal.
I've been told that I'm not. But perfectly ordinary people die crossing the road, it happens all the time.
I've read it in the newspapers.
My head is empty today, and my chest is numb.
I took a tablet last night.
It's so peaceful.
If I sit very still I cease to exist.
I wonder, when I sign things "Love me",
do I mean, with love from me?
Or please, please love me.
Remember me, remember my words, think of me fondly from time to time.