Dear Diary,

Groovy. Sorry Diary, I just couldn't help myself there. I'm feeling totally unstrung. You see, I'm writing this from a tent in a hippie infested commune. Normally that wouldn't be such a bad thing. But this time? It might be my permanent home. Quinn and the Professor are gone!

When I realized they hadn't landed in the commune with us...I just...I don't know...wanted to crumple in a little ball and cry my eyes out. Luckily, I've been plenty distracted from my grief. Because of our not-so-normal entrance, the hippies think Rembrandt and I are prophets.

Hah! What a laugh...if only they knew how clueless I really feel most of the time.

Where are you Quinn? I can't bear the thought that you might be out of my life forever...there are so many things I never told you. And now it might be too late. Remmie says not to give up hope, but it's so hard.

Okay...I've got to stop writing now...I'm feeling too upset to even put this down on paper.

Love,

Wade