Emily, I had the worst day ever. Well, maybe the second worst day ever. Well... okay, it was just a crappy day. And I wish you were here to make me feel better. I want to tell you all about my day, and how mean my boss is, and how much I hate it there. It's Friday night... I went to the grocery store and bought chips and french bread pizzas, soda, and cookies. I have a Friend's DVD playing. I have everything but you. Mom and Dad have been out of town for two weeks. I've cooked- stuff I may have even gotten you to try. And if you were here, we'd probably have been fighting for almost all of it. And then we would have made up over chips and greasy pizza. Stayed up all night watching Friends. And it would have made my terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day not seem so bad.
But instead, I ate too much, it's no fun watching Friend's alone, and that all makes my terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day seem ever so much worse.
*sigh*
I hate this. Hate it. I miss you so much I can't breathe.
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