Well, I talked to Emma. For some reason, it felt like ages since I had last confided in her.

Maybe it’s because of everything that’s been happening lately.

It’s like a video on fast forward, and I can’t slow it down – my life, that is.

Besides, tomorrow I’m going to look up this ‘Agent Orange’ that papa was supposedly exposed to.

It didn’t sound good, just judging by the name.

Scooter lodged himself between me and my journal, and I ended up stroking him.

I closed the journal, and put it underneath my pillow, along with my shut pen.

I hate the idea of people looking into something that keeps my most private thoughts secure – well, relatively secure.

I lay back down on the soft bed, trying not to fall asleep, although I knew that with all this fatigue, a dreamless sleep would be more than welcome.

Scooter positioned himself strategically between my arm and right side, so it’s like I have a heater against my right hip.

I love my kitty so much. I don’t know what I’d do without him…