It had been about three months since Mark had seen me. He was the sextiest thing I had ever seen but I never had the guts to say that to him. I am always afraid that he might say that I am too loud. Or that my hair may be to too green, even though his was a deep, dark red. But I can't do that now. Thanks to Wade. He is the tree in the way of my trail. Mark chose him and that is final. I am not fit for him. So obviously I am not fit for this world in Los Angeles. Maybe I should just go back to potato farming in Ireland...

((Ideas? Please?))