July 19, 2013

Rachel,

I'm fucking furious right now. I tried letting it out at the junkyard just smashing beer bottles into pieces. It was so intense I cut my hand and it wouldn't stop bleeding for more than ten minutes. Normally all it would take me to calm down was to see you waiting for me in the shack writing our travel plans journal or reading a book or just looking out the window or at the mirror or at me. But you're not here. You're not anywhere and I'm so fucking mad at everything and fuck, what I wouldn't give to stop feeling this way.

Some asshole gave me a call this morning, saying he saw someone who fit your description. I drove down to where he was right away. It wasn't you, of course. I flipped him the bird for making me think for a second that I've finally found you. Then he socked me in the face.

Tl;dr: You're still gone and I still don't know what to do with myself.

Chloe, the slayer of bottles