Jane,
You Once told me to write down things that I saw and I Refused to catered to your wishes. It was stupid really, you humans have such fragile little lives, utterly mundane and un-worthy of the time it takes to transcribe it. I refused and ripped the small notebook so much like your own that you gifted me. You loved the book I suppose, it contained everything about you and the care you bestowed upon it would leave it close to new. I wish now that I hadn't ripped my own gift and could write down this drivel you oh so enjoy with you and your own tiny book. It would be close to something perfect you would say, with that smile of course, I would scoff and walk away and it would crumble. I wish I hadn't took it for granted.
