Saturday, 18 September, 20h24:
Oh my goodness. I am having serious Stef withdrawal. I am quietly hyperventilating inside. Also, I have cancer of the upper body and may have died by the time you return.If that happens... then I don't know. Something profound and last-wordsy etc.
Sunday, 19 September, 09h19:
Day 2. Withdrawal continues, but I have not yet died. Also, seeing Tracy tomorrow possibly, which might help. I can get all teary about how we used to talk and show her screen shots of our BBM conversation as I sob over the fact that you left me for this ridiculous river whatsit mission. Also, I came to a most profound... conclusion today. In three years I have gone from having 4 sugars in my coffee to just 1. I am an adult.
Uhff. EVERYONE is being a douchetard. And you are not here for me to complain to.
Monday, 20 September, 13h04:
Have made it to Monday without dying.
Also, have listened to The Suit Song 37 times since Saturday.
Tuesday, 21 September, 04h28:
Had dinner with Tracy last night. She now has a crazy person texting her. Long story. Then had a dream about you. But it was basically you driving, telling me about some girl. And me, bored. Very realistic, I think, except that your car was lime green. Up at 4 today, on air again. *blink blink*
Too little coffee. Too much Stef Withdrawal (note: upper case). Also, am I the ONLY person who writes on your wall?!
Just phoned Kurt Darren for his address.Stef, come back.
In the amount of time I have just spent fretting over the fact that I have no milk (just realised. Up at 4. To go now (but am already in bed and had a fucking long day) and get less sleep (4am is no joke) or have either no coffee tomorrow, or black coffee? What to do?!) I could probably have driven to the Free State, milked a cow and still had naps before 4am wake-up call. Tomorrow I'm driving around Pretoria in a Jeep with Kurt Darren giving out R200 000 to charity people things. On the plus side, you are back tomorrow and I can cease my perpetual panic due to Steflessness. Also, I conclude that I am, in fact, the only person who writes on your wall.
PS you are my favourite and I love you and I cannot wait for you to come back.
PPS if something has happened to you (death included) and you are, in fact, not coming back tomorrow because of this 'something', I will drive to Namibia (after fixing my rim which I have really royally fucked up) and drag your Nazi arse to my house and subject you to 24/7 uncensored stories of the dramas of my life. Dramas like, for example, this milk thing. Still haven't made my mind up re milk.
Listening to Suit Song. Play count: 52.
Wednesday, 22 September, 16h40:
Stef......WHERE ARE YOU?!?!