Dear Prudence,
I wasn’t planning to tell you, but I’ve never kept a secret from you. So here it goes…

I have cancer.

I found that out last week on Tuesday. I’m scared, not that I’ll die, but that I won’t ever see you again. Maybe your dream did mean something. But if I were really a butterfly, I would have stopped for you, you’re the only person who gets me. Why would I run away? :]

Oh, and today, I gave this girl in my class half of my lunch since she forgot hers. I didn’t really know what else I could do. Moast people are afraid of me when they see the eyeliner (they ask “Do guys wear make-up?) and the black clothes.

And don’t sweat the fact that you can recite Twilight Zone from memory. So can I, you’re not alone, don’t be ashamed, be proud.

Yours,
Jude

Post. Script. I love the pink leg warmers, and don’t ever stop wearing the fingerless gloves.