This diary is the only thing keeping me sane, keeping track of the days, and reminding me I'm alive.

There is no one here but me. I am alone. Alone on a boat made for two, stocked for two, built by two. I am devastated that he is not with me, but perhaps it is easier, or better, that I am alone.

Maybe I can survive longer.

But I would never say that I am living. This is not living. I am not alive. Without them, I cannot be alive.