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I’m starting this book, knowing I’ll never finish it. Hell, I’ll probably never write it. I know who will, and I’m alright with that. That’s why I had him promise to me that he’d do it. And he will, for me. But I know he’ll include this note I’m writing, a lead in to the story I want the world to know.

I’m fading now. Fading away no matter how much I freaking fight it. I’m fighting like hell to hold on. But it’s getting harder and harder with each damn day. Soon, I’ll be gone; leaving nothing behind that even resembles who I am. It’s killing me to know what my future holds, and I’m going to admit it, I’m scared beyond anything I’ve ever imagined.

So remember me as I was, and not for what I’ll become.

Remember how I lived, not how I’ll die.

Remember me this way.

That’s all I ask.