dear diary,

we found edward. yes, i carry you around. i have to. this has been quite the stressful endeavor. edward has been talking about how he did not kill chrissy cunningham. i told him i believe him. i told him about the ghost of chrissy cunningham. i told him about the ghosts of the dead that trail after me. he called me a little necromancer, just as michael calls me.

steve harrington and robin buckley have been hard at work, coming up with a plan. edward smells of boats and old beer. he still has some weed on him, and we escaped the group to smoke it together. he tells me that i look sick, and i tell him he's a wanted criminal. he only laughs and ruffles my hair.

a boy died today. he joins the victims of the monster haunting us. haunting me. i think i am cursed again. he contorts and screams, eyes exploding from their sockets. i can hear his ghost whimpering in panic. he wants to live, while i want to die.

max talked to me for the first time in months. there are entries missing, and i feel guilty. but i threw them out. they were letters to max. letters i wish i could send. she said she missed me and how she couldn't muster even a singlular hello. i told her to learn to apologize better, and i leave the one person who brought me back to life.

best wishes,
taylor