Nora Durst: Dear Kevin, I need to say goodbye to someone I care about, someone who's still here, so I'm saying it to you. You were good to me Kevin, and sometimes when we were together, I remembered who I used to be before everything changed, but I was pretending. Pretending as if I hadn't lost everything. I want to believe it can all go back to the way it was, I want to believe I'm not surrounded by the abandoned ruin of a dead civilization, I want to believe it's still possible to get close to someone. But it's easier not to. It's easier because I'm a coward and I couldn't take the pain, not again. I know that's not fair, Kevin. You've lost so much too, and you're strong. You're still here. But I can't be, not anymore. I tried to get better, Kevin. I didn't want to feel this way, so I took a shortcut. But it led me right back home. And do you know what I found when I got there? I found them, Kevin, right where I left them. Right where they left me. It took me three years to accept the truth, but now I know there's no going back, no fixing it. I'm beyond repair. Maybe we're all beyond repair. I can't go on the way I'm living, but I don't have the power to die. But I have to move towards something. Anything. I'm not sure where I'm going, just away. Away from all this. I think about a place where nobody will know what happened to me, but then I worry I'll forget them, but I don't want to ever forget them, I can't. They were my family. I think I loved you, Kevin, and maybe you loved me too. I wish I could say this to you instead of writing it, I wish I could see you one last time to thank you and wish you well, and tell you how much you mean to me, but I can't. Like I said, I'm a coward. So, wish me luck, I think I'm going to need it. Love, Nora.