I’m sorry to write to you I don’t even want an answer. I just need to talk. The days go by and I’m ok. I’ve got a good job, you would like my Gm is very similar to you, calm and kind. The place is nice and kitchen as usual are a lot of retards. Just the other morning I took a new booking for HB went thru to let them know and they started shouting the usual “No respect for my job” and bla bla bla. I smile and walked away. They had 3 ppl booked for dinner. In total they made 9 and still complaining about it after service lol but apart from that is all good. Then a few times a week I work in a bar just for some extra cash and it’s fine. I’m taking those strong medications for psoriasis and I’m completely clean. Literally. Not loosing pieces everywhere anymore. They have lots of side effects, my antibodies are really really low and I don’t sleep much (and few other ugly things I won’t tell you). Some days are easy some days are not. I did tell you I don’t feel home anywhere and still that’s the case. Somedays I just find myself driving and thinking maybe after that turn eventually Glencoe will appear, that I’ll be wondering around Edinburgh again or have a nice roast with well done Yorkshire puddings at your parents. Our cheese and biscuits dinner and the food shopping late at night. I listen to music and all of them remind me of somewhere or something. It’s harder than I thought. It’s like living in standby. Days going by and me just looking at life from the outside. I haven’t been out with anyone. You set the bar too high and I can’t really feel anything still. I miss too much things and I just ask myself why do I deserve this? Why there was meant to be all that distance? I don’t know. I don’t. When I listen to Imagine Dragons “Next to me” I always picture you. I’m happy if you are happy. I’m happy if you found someone will be able to stand by your side. And I’m sorry I vomited all those words you didn’t ask for, I will try not to bother again but won’t promise I won’t send you another update, you can just bin it if don’t want to read it. I’ll be ok.