Shane.

My cat lies next to me in bed. Lizzy McAlpine is playing from the computer as I write this. Outside it's cold and dark, early november. In my room it's warm, comfortable, homey. My friend is sleeping on the call with me. None of us like being alone. We comfort each other this way.

This is reality.

I'm on the verge of crying. I am writing to better understand what happened here. It used to be you on the phone. Singing to me, comforting me. This was also reality.

Today marks 20 weeks since the last time we spoke. You didn't want to live anymore. This became reality.

I miss you, Shane. That is my reality.