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