Dear Permission to be Powerful Reader,
I fucking hate wartime.
But it sneaks up on you.
Always uninvited.
Before you know it, you can’t remember what the good old days were like.
No more salsa seven days per week.
No more dance crew.
No more girlfriends.
No more sex.
No more money.
No more fun.
No more running.
No more racing.
No more running team.
No more weekenders…
