Cold november, balloons and best friends

Feeling like I am drunk/high/somethingiswrong.
Difficult to walk straight.
If I don’t survive, goodbye.
Thanks for everything.
I love you.

This will all end someday.

I was given every advantage and have made a sorry mess of things.
Writers don’t usually live too long.
I have to write my book,
tell the story of the love of my life.
I can’t leave here yet.

– For more in this series and the story behind it, see 13 Years

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