BY THE TIME you read this I’ll be dead. I didn’t get the idea of writing it until I knew I had the leukemia. Before that I was pretty much content to live my life. It wasn’t the easiest life in the world, but I had gotten used to it. A human being can get used to anything.

But now, with all this going on, I want some sort of contact with someone, even if it’s after my death. I don’t want to leave nothing but memory. There is more to me than just memory.

Also, I want someone to know me. Nobody really knows me yet. Not what I feel. If I don’t start talking soon, it might never happen.

So you’re elected. That is, if this ends up being saved, and someone can translate it. Because I’m not writing it in your language. I’m writing it in my language.