Shit, girlie, it's been five and a half years since you died. It looks like all the old posts were deleted when myspace switched formats; I still have a printout of that last survey you posted somewhere, maybe I'll photocopy it and post it back up. It would have been your birthday just recently, your 31st. I remember going to the redneck bar across the street from my mom's house on your 21st. You got shitfaced before the songs I played on the jukebox were even over and then pissed my bed after I took you home. I can't believe you went out like you did; 26 is too young for the nursing home.