Oh Katy, it's getting late, and I miss you. I'm starting to get a little bit worried, but I know that you're pretty good at taking care of yourself, so I'm sure you're just fine. I, on the other hand, am not always so good at taking care of myself, and I've spent a miserable day wishing I had not consumed so much vodka last night. Not an uncommon regret for me. There was a moment last night that I laid down in bed by you, maybe around ten o clock, and I considered staying there and trying to go to sleep. I so wish I had. The hangover was unusually bad today. It's almost 8 and I'm still dry heaving. But what's worse is the depression I'm suffering. I've just felt really hopeless and down. It took my greatest effort to grade those quizzes, and that is the only thing I have accomplished. And I spent so much time internally battling whether to have a shot to make me feel better. I knew it would be a terrible idea, and probably wouldn't make me feel the slightest bit better, but I wanted it so. I'm glad I stuck with my better judgement. I'm really sorry I ruined our plans for this evening. It would have been really nice to eat out and have some fun. Gosh, I'm crying a bit now. Oh Katy, I think I'm a mess. Please come home soon, I miss you. I'm sorry to be such a drag. I really would like to be happy
