And it’s pathetic. Because I will probably never see you again.

I’m leaving tomorrow. I don’t know if I’m going to come back next year. I just don’t know if I can keep doing this to myself no matter how much I love it here. Because when I’m in Cochamó, you’re everywhere.

I should probably take this journal with me. I can’t believe I just wrote that stuff.

Cochamó Valley

Chile

August 5, 2008

Ah, ha ha. Very funny. So I threaten to take the last journal, so you take it (I’m assuming) and leave me with a new one. Clever.

Also, what are all these journals in the bedroom? There’s got to be a couple hundred of them and they’re all in Latin. Do you expect me to work while I’m here?

News flash: I don’t work for you anymore.

I do love working at the Huntington, though. Such an amazing job. I only get three weeks of vacation, so only two weeks in the valley this year. Bummer. But if I skipped out on Christmas with Cas and Grandma, they’d kill me.

August 6, 2008

Holy shit. These are your journals. These are your whole life.

Why did you leave these here? Are they safe? Don’t they need to be in a temperature-controlled room? And it gets really damp here in the winter. Though I suppose the bedroom is pretty good with the way it’s cut into the rock.

I feel like I can’t leave the house now, even though they were probably here for weeks before I came and I’m sure they’re perfectly secure.

You knew Napoleon? Really?

Was he as insecure about his height as everyone says? You must have looked like a giant next to him.

August 10, 2008

These things are incredible. There’s no way I’m going to get through all of them, though. My Latin is not that good.