I spent so many hours, struggling over how I would begin this.

Maybe I would start it out with a somber monologue. It might just create a proper atmosphere

Maybe I would recount one of my memories to you so that you would... you know... grow invested in me as a person.

Or maybe I would just get straight to the point.

That's what I ultimately decided to do. That's what fits my style best.

...

Now that I think about it, I ruined it by rambling so much. That one is on me. My bad.

Moving on from that, I'll be blunt. I'm dead. Or, at least, I should be by the time you read this. How did I die? Who knows. I won't tell you. In fact, I won't reveal this to you, even after you're through all this. By the end of the journey, you will not know who I am. Neither will you know what I was like.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Why bother writing this, then?

Because I want to know what you will think by the time you're done. I'm curious about your interpretation will be.

The interpretation of my life.

Well... that depends on whether you even want to go through the trouble and waste your time on this. If you can't be bothered with all this, feel free to throw this letter in the dumpster or set it on fire. Actually, I'd appreciate it, if you simply threw it in the dumpster. I've made a list of locations that you're free to visit if you really want to commit to this. These locations are the windows through which you may look for me. Also, don't worry, you won't find my corpse by the end of this! Why would I want to do this to someone? I'm not a psycho, after all!

This is nothing more than a lighthearted scavenger hunt. A scavenger hunt with no reward at the end of it. A truly pointless scavenger hunt.

Here's the first task to you, whomever still reads this nonsense: Flip to the next page of this letter.

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I found this notebook, crumpled but largely undamaged, in the middle of the street. On a whim, I decided to go pick it up. I have no idea where it originally was. To put it mildly, the last few days have been beyond stormy, so there's no way for me to find out where in god's name it flew from. There's no name written anywhere, so I don't even know who wrote this. All I knew was that it felt... wrong to hand this over to the police. Conflicted, so I decided to take it home with me and placed it on my desk next to my unfinished sandwich from this morning. To be perfectly honest, this sounds like a chore, so I'm not sure if I want to play along with whatever this weirdo cooked up. Ultimately, I decided to put off my thoughts to tomorrow. I'm exhausted and simply not in the mood to think. So I slumped into my bed, letting the comfort of my pillow lull me to sleep.