It's The End, (how sad).
My Dearest Ficly,
I am sick.
I suffer from a splitting headache; double vision and blood-shot eyes. Not to mention the mad gibbering of math equations whenever somebody ask me a question.
I visited my doctor. And he gave me weird advice.
He told me not to sleep! He gave me a prescription of a hundred cups of the ole black coffee and two liters of midnight oil.
The doctor advised me to just throw the darn computer away and bind myself with superglue to my table. He said never to find you again until I recover.
I think I’m down with a bug of exams.
Oh, I’m counting down the days till I am with you again.