I'm dying. Or I'm dead. Or I won't ever die. Who knows? That's the thing with a ghost, there's a crap ton of questions that come with, like can I still touch things, can I still talk, do I float, am I still able to play the floor is lava if I float? You know, important philosophical questions. But the main one is, can I die. I don't think so, I mean, I'm already dead, so how can I die again? But if I'm dead, then I can die. Which means that the previous belief that I can't die if I'm dead is incorrect. Right? I hope I can die. I mean, that was the whole point. Of going to the building, of jumping. And I can feel myself fading. These words will probably be my last, so, better make 'em count. Mom, I'll miss you a little. Dad you were a good one, if a tad strict, and I will miss you some. Brother, I hate to say it, but you and I never really connected, and I never really felt emotionally connected to you, so I won't really miss you. Sister, I'll miss you the most. We were the most alike, and that's saying something, 'cause I'm like some sort of defect in personality in our family. Goodbye world. Goodbye sun. Goodbye floor. Goodbye joy. Goodbye life. Goodbye fear. Goodbye everyone. I'll miss some of you.
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Penana
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