Dear Diary, Months ago, on April 9, I think I died. Not to be paranoid or anything, it’s just I’m pretty sure I did. It’ll explain the flies that have been gathering around my rotting flesh. It’ll explain the weird ache in my chest, and the lack of a beating heart. It’ll explain why I’ve found it hard to sleep in months. Why on the morning of April 10, I stepped into the shower to try and wash the previous night away but haven’t been clean since …
