I don't understand my life. I was an only child. I lost both my parents. By the time when I was 20, I was going bald. I'm a homosexual. In the way of circumstances and background, I had everything an artist could possibly want. It was practically a blueprint. I was programmed to be a novelist or a playwright.
But I'm not and you are!
Joe, you do everything better than me! You even sleep better than me!
I should have used this. More theatrical.
But you'd have spotted that straight away.
I loved him. I must have loved him.
I chose him to kill me.
John. John.
If you read his diary
all will be explained
K.H.
PS. Especially the later part
