one hundred word run-on sentence

She begins to write.

“It’s four in the morning and I can’t sleep because I just want to know what happened to you and what happened to us, but maybe I’m just being paranoid since you’re probably one of the few that I can talk to with ease even though you probably don’t care as much as me; see I can hardly fathom the possibility if what was said, what I told you and what you listened to was true, if that one thought came to fruition, so instead I said goodbye, and just like that you were off to something grand as I laid there at four in the morning, wide awake.”

It is all she musters.

The soul is laid bare in front of the oblivious, unbiased audience of ink on paper.