Dear Diary,


Bon appétit.

It's cold in here.

I found out that the storage room doesn't have any air vents or anything that makes the room warm. It's damn cold here.

And yeah, I'm sleeping here today.

I hope the girls are all right at home. I did feed them before I left, so they'll be fine.

I have to get a van tomorrow.

There is one nearby owned by the storage-room guy. He moves people's things around. I heard he's sick, so getting the van shouldn't be difficult.

Tomorrow I'll move my things to my new home.

Then I'll go collect Melissa and Lexie.

Then I'll commit suicide.

Hahaha.

I might as well leave a shitty suicide note.

Something about how I was struggling with depression.

It'll be convincing.

I'm worried about the girls, though.

But I have no choice.

We suffer to get what we want.

They'll make it.

I think.

It's really cold.

Goodnight, Diary.