Hello there. I think you're probably asleep because you have a normal body clock. But here is a letter nevertheless.
Firstly, I hope you're getting better. Being sick is lame, and it makes me sad for you. I'm very happy, however, that you got to flee the hospital. And as I said in a previously composed letter accompanying a shoebox, we're going to go to Glastonbury and eat pie.
Secondly, please get a Robin Reliant, because the world needs more 19 year olds driving three wheeled cars in an attempt to channel Mr Bean. If not, I vote a yellow car so you can always win at Spotto.
Thirdly, and I'm not sure why I'm essaying this, but thirdly. You are quite possibly one of the greatest friends I've ever had. Quite possibly? You are, and I am very very blessed to have you around. There are few who accept this 156cm of oddities. You are one of them, and you go the extra mile and be insane with me. And also, you are very non-judgmental which I am ever thankful for. 3 years to go and we go out on the town wearing sombreros and singing fiesta songs like the Mexicans we are. Or something.
At 2:57am, from insomnia, a letter to my best friend, and "Seamus'" future godmother,
Love from me.
(P.S. I can get rid of the photo if you want. I would put up the one where you're holding a Quasimodo reptile of sorts and I have a snake burrowing into my hair, but my grandma is the only one with a copy of that. Also, we were only youngsters.)
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