Dear Dr. S,

9 hours to go. Look I've held to my new resolution of not emailing you. We'll see how I do over the weekend with that resolution. Still don't want to talk about any of this. Still want it back. I'm afraid you threw it away. Starting to feel small, under table small. Can I sit under the desk today? Can I just share music with you? We have not had floor time in many weeks now - are we ever going to have that room back? Today, I don't want to grow up.

I wish I was artistic so I could draw the images in my head.

I miss the good feelings of you, us. I don't want to be here.

-me