Dear terry

Dear terry,

I am in bed, drunk, and fully aware that I wrote your name with a lower case T. It was an accident, and I don’t feel like going back and fixing it, I was kind of hoping my computer would fix that on its own, you know, like computers do. Anyway, I’ve had to make afew decision up to this point (of this letter) but they’re not really important. You know, back when I thought I could never get fat, I thought the main pleasure in life was eating. Of course, I was a child then, and I was pretty fucking skinng, believe me. In any case, I’m kind of tired and sleep, and it’s 3 am, but no matter, I went to bed at 4:30 yesterday, but I actually wanted to register this moment. You know that song “Do You Love Me?” You would definitely laugh if I sang that to you. You might think that I’m just deliberately trying to sound crazy. I’m actually just kind of nervous right now, for some reason, I don’t know why, maybe because I’d kinda rather be sleeping right now. Oh the strains of life. Remember when Emma Holt wrote Strane and not Stain? Jesus, right?, what could have possibly been the excuse for that? “I was tired”. Puh. Terry let me go sleep! I love you, honeslty. I’d have sex with you and everything. And you have cool eyes. Did you know your eldest son was in love with me last year? It’d be awkward now if I’d gone through with it, given that I know ador his father. Né, father?vai, let me go to sleep. I’m horny, and I wish someone like oyu would spoon with me right now. What a great way to conclude a letter.

BESTEST OF THE BESTEST

Your ever loving trule and admiring love

Aleixa Caroline Penney