I keep listing, describing, explaining your every detail, all the elements that shape who you are, and I want to forever delay you coming to find me, perhaps forever delay my death and yours. I should never have written from the beginning. I should never have attempted to write from the beginning. But the story has already begun, and a story that has begun must go on. Like every unlucky narrator, I am fated to finish this story. Whether or not I wish to. Whether or not I will it.