To whom it may concern,
I'm not really sure how many of you are really going to give a shit. And that's okay, really it is, because who am I? I'm nobody important, I'm just some old ass sailor that took advantage of a man ten years younger than me because he showed a little interest. Really can anyone blame me?
Right, this had a point. I'm moving me and the kids out of the apartment and into the Normandy. I can't take living in this apartment anymore. I hear them. I turn around expecting them to be there and they aren't. I wake up expecting to be able to roll over and find my husband, and I'm only greeted by cold.
I hear Addie calling me Daddy in the middle of the night. And she is just. not. there. She never will be again.
I can't be optimistic. Not right now. So it's a choice between my sanity and a few of ghosts. For the kids I have, I've got to choose sanity.
There are worse places kids have been raised. I won't be going anywhere. And JARVIS has been told to be open for visitors.
Commander Shepard, of the Normandy SR-2 signing out.
(ooc: This letter is written when she's not exactly sober.)