Dear Lovage,

Frustration.
That's the theme.

Yesterday evening I tried to tell Serena about it, but found it really difficult to make sense of it all, even to myself.
I still sent off the email, though, because I didn't want her to worry about me. But I also forwarded the letter I wrote to you two weeks ago, thinking maybe it would describe my state of mind a little bit better.

Last night an idea occurred to me: Maybe I don't have to be completely confessional. Maybe I can fictionalise my diary, making it more interesting and bearable for myself. Writing, therefore, can be both the therapy and the escape. What'd you think?

Guess who asked me out on a date???
*sigh*....

Take care

lots of love, P