It is my last day in Hawaii, at least I'm pretty sure it is. To me it is really important to spend the last day at the beach, but the people I'm with have some different ideas. We get engrossed in a TV show, and then when I get up from that, it's almost 4 o'clock, too late to go to the beach, which pains me deeply. I notice how much food is in the fridge - that's all going to have to be thrown away, even beer, we can't take it with us. These guys didn't plan very well. But I have my own fridge downstairs, and it has some food in it too.

I start to cry in anguish and depression, and go to my bed to lie down. At least four girls follow me, asking what is wrong. These are girls from high school, like Amy something whom I sometimes see on Facebook, who I didn't really know but seemed nice. The cause of my sadness is my daughter Amber, and the pain of knowing I will miss her when I die, but I can't explain it, and I regret letting any of these concerned girls know anything about it. I try to explain, but all I can get out is "it's not that I'm fragile..."