dear diary,

i have begun to hallucinate. i talk to the counselor and she tells me it is apart of my depression. yes, the mad woman has told me i am insane. i am not insane. but these hallucinations are terrible. a man is mocking me. he is saying i am sick. sick with the love for a woman. my mother is in these visions, and she is dead in them. my mother is alive. she is alive. alive. alive. alive.

i miss my life from june to august. life was simpler. billy's death ruined my life. he has begun to linger in my bedroom, like the other ghosts from before. i don't seem jim hopper, and god, i wish i did. sarah says her father isn't dead, and i believe her. but eleven and will are gone. far from hawkins. i have lost everyone.

i think about my own death. i walk amongst the living, but i am not one of them. they aren't my people. i fantasize a world where i am alive, with her by my side. but my death is inevitable, like all things in life.

i hope i die at my own hand, rather than the hand of someone else. i prefer my death to be of my own doing. i want to watch my blood drip from the wound, taste it as it pours down my arms. i want to die.

best wishes,
taylor