Journal post in the states
Audra said I needed to pick up a pen and start writing my thoughts down. I think it's mostly because she's sick and tired of hearing me tell her there are things I can't tell her about. It's not that I don't want to tell her, we've become wonderful friends, it's just that I can't. If she were a witch I could talk to her about all kinds of things, but she isn't.
There are other things I need to get out that I know I can't tell her. If I told her I was thinking about returning to London she'd beg me not to go. She'd mention it to her folks and they'd tell mine. Look at me, I'm using words like folks. I really need to get back home. I miss football, and not this thing they have over here. I miss..
No, I can't go there. I won't go there. I havn't talked to her in so long. She's probably moved on. There are tons of blokes that would be more than willing to take up her time and wipe away her tears. Surely I'm nothing more than a memory.