I go to the doctor in six hours. Growing my skin back in places hurts more than when I lost it. I’ve started preparing for the GRE. I don’t know what to make of a stranger whose first inquiry of me cuts directly to the most prominent/defining aspect of my life. “Kaysee Jay’s ‘Romantic Nights’ Playlist: In Honor of Christopher Tharp, But Not Dedicated To” is almost completed. I have surgery in January to finish up the bone graft. I think about Neil constantly, almost hauntingly. Whiny Kitty knows that something is not right. I remember back in the day when I used to answer phone calls; my sister would give my number to random boys at clubs who asked for hers. She thought it was hilarious, and it is. I need to go back to Shands soon, really soon. I know the world’s greatest card trick; I made it up myself. I’m losing direction, and I’m not sure I care.