I don’t really know where to put this, so I guess I’ll put it here.
Tomorrow will be two years since my best friend was murdered. I don’t know if two years is long enough to really notice a definite pattern, but both this year and last year I started getting really depressed around the end of July.
Tomorrow I have a 10 hour day of clinicals, where I have to put on my best nurse face and be a caring, present human being, while also impressing my instructor with my progress. To be honest, all I want to do is sleep through the whole day.
I miss you, Amy. I wish I could call you and tell you how much you meant to me. Every year feels like saying goodbye all over again.