"I guess–I don't know–underneath it all I'm just a romantic. I've loved (I will always love), and I suppose when I'm dead someday that will only be what's left: some vague echo of a moment I shared with someone. But really, and truthfully, I loved them in that moment.

And I will live, who knows how long, but I will live and I will carry in my heart those moments. The tasting and touching of those moments. I will hold them in my heart, and in my own way, I will always love them. Each one. Each moment and tongue.

It is sad and it is wonderful–that I got to have any of them at all, and that I got to have none of them. But that's probably on me–I'm not always the best person.  

I don't know, I guess I'll just keep trying. But please know I loved them. All of them, in their own way.

I'm sorry for who I am. I'm sorry if I ****** up. I just wanted to be happy. I just wanted to taste someone's skin and live.

Maybe tomorrow I'll die. Who knows.

Anyway, I love you. Goodnight."