If this is my kid, in the future, reading, I am sorry for the suckish handwriting. I usually type shit. In fact, that's how your father and I met... Nevermind.
Um... What should I write here? Oh, good news, I didn't throw up today. And I can feel a tiny, little bump. That's youu.
I really wish I could talk to you... I'm a bit lonely. And I want to know how you are doing, what name you'd like, etc.
Not much happened today. Biology sucked, the "popular chicks" are all over you, and I had to swing by Starbucks. (BTW, thanks for finally craving something normal. That butter had to be one of THE nastiest things I have ever eaten.)
This doesn't really have much to do with you, but Grandma stopped by Nick's today. She and I had a heartfelt, mother-daughter conversation. I think. She said she DIDN'T call the police on him...but I think she's lying. And I trust Aunt Jada wamh. <3
Technically, I should change the date to Sept. 2nd... It just turned 12. Whatever. Goodnight, blob. I love you.
♥
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