DEAR SAMMY,

First, I just wanted to say I’m sorry I fell asleep in the middle of my last entry.

Okay. That’s a lie.

I passed out. But I am sorry nonetheless.

This whole graduation thing’s got me twisted because it was always something I planned on doing with you. So that’s big. Epic, right?! The culminating event that takes us into adulthood with the entire world waiting for us to explore it afterward. Except now we can’t. No matter how hard I wish otherwise.

And trust me when I say there’s no way to prevent the inevitable. Believe me, because I almost failed like three classes last semester trying to do just that, and even though my grades were shit, they still passed me because I’m grieving or whatever.

So here I am, on the second-worst morning of my life, confessing how much it’s killing me, and along with the other million reasons why graduation sucks, the cherry on top is that I’m about to break my last promise to you. No, not just the one about not taking pills.

The other BIG one.

Unacceptable. I know. But maybe now you can see why I got so sloppy the other night. The pressure is overwhelming. Remember when we used to play KerPlunk, or Jenga, and we’d get to the part in the game where we knew we were about to lose but there was no turning back? That’s how I feel 24/7.

All eyes are watching and waiting for the last piece that’s going to destroy me. The timer is set, the bets are placed. It’s just a numbers game from here on out.

And sure, I may have broken a couple of promises to you, but you broke a lot of promises to me, so I’m going to consider this blip a free pass. Just in case you were wondering, it’s incredibly difficult to keep my word about all the things when we can’t renegotiate the terms, like, ever.

I’ll be honest. I don’t know if I can stop the pills completely. I want to, though.

As far as the other promise, well . . . as much as I’d like to believe you only had my heart in mind, I know you were scheming—it’s so obvi. I just don’t know why. But regardless, I haven’t told Ben I like him. Not even a little bit.

You made me swear on the life of Boscoe I’d tell Ben I’m crushing on him, or you’d make my life a living hell for being such a punk bitch. I think it’s safe to say you’re doing that already, so your threat is preeety hollow. Anyway, I have a plan. It’s just delayed, and has become a bit more complicated since last year. Before I can open up to Ben, there’s someone else I need to talk to first. Luckily there’s this massive grad party coming up, and I’ll talk to both of them then.

Also, in case you’re wondering, Boscoe is alive and well.

Who’d have thought a cat would outlive my own twin. . . . It’s so weird to think about shit like that.

Crap, there’s a lot more I want to say right now but Mom really is calling me this time. I wish I could stay in my bedroom forever. It almost feels safe here. Maybe I could set my gown on fire—then I wouldn’t be able to walk.

Hey, it’s about to be hurricane season, maybe a freak storm will blow down the entire school in the next three hours. Or maybe I’ll just run away when shit gets tough.

That’s always been our specialty. Right?

Gotta go, but I promise I’ll return. Tomorrow. Swear.