Hey Mills!
You are dead. Gone. I can write that down now. It still doesn't make me feel very HAPPY exactly but I'm trying to accept it. Rosalind is making me say this to you. I really hope that I can be better about that. I don't want to keep being sad about you. I will be sad for a very long time but I want to be better. Actually I'm going to cut the crap. I'm not better. I can't think about you at all. I have to write this, though, so hey. I love you.
Love, Paris