Well I decided to die. Tell James, tell Nadia, tell Tim. Tell them to cremate me and pour my remains into the nearest bin. Let me be carted to the garbage dump and smeared throughout the landfill, let me ruminate, let me be distilled. Let me putrefy, let me be congealed. None of this was really for me, childhood was where I wanted to be. That was the only time I really felt free, being fascinated by flowers and leaves and trees, looking at bugs, mantises and spiders and pulling apart bees. Who in their right mind would want to be adult me?