”First of all, hi Milo, Dakota, Cavendish, or whoever is reading this. If you ARE reading this, it’s either because you found it in my room and got curious or concerned, or I finally managed to kick the bucket.”

“If the latter- unless one of you guys, like, murdered me with a chainsaw, or something- let me be the first to confirm; it is not your fault.” "I know you three- I’m looking at you, Dakota- are going to blame yourselves for my untimely demise. Are you the ones who pulled the trigger? No. (Well, hopefully not) it’s the fault of whoever did pull the trigger. Not you.” "Take it from an expert, boys- death just kind of happens, and it really sucks when it does, but I’m okay. I’m freaking free now! Unless I did something really stupid, I should, theoretically, be in Heaven. the place where literally nothing bad can happen. I can stop being an anxious, traumatized wreck all the time! Woot woot!”

”Now, let’s get down to business. I’m hoping and praying you guys find this before the funeral, because I do, in fact, have last wishes.”

“firstly, DO NOT CREMATE ME. I WILL HAUNT YOU FROM THE AFTERLIFE IF YOU CREMATE ME. I want people to randomly find my bones in their backyard one day because they built their house on a graveyard. It would be so freaking funny.”

“secondly, the funeral is open invite. I want any disaster survivors, or families of victims who remember me to be able to come if they want to. Post it online if you can. Milo, I don’t care what Murphy’s law does, you’re freaking coming to my funeral even if you explode my grave, and I will smack you from beyond the grave if you don’t come.”

“I’m aware I don’t have a lot of pictures of me. HOWEVER the internet does! There’s a website cataloguing evidence of my existence throughout time, made by historians and fans, which I apparently have? It’s called “HistoryHasIt’sEyesOnAsh.com”. Yes, the website name is a Hamilton reference, and I applaud them for it. I have an account on there, the password to which is riiiight here-“

she write her username and password below

“post the funeral invite there, too. You can also get a bunch of photos and videos for the inevitable funeral slideshow there. There’s even some really old ones!”

“thirdly, play “American Pie” at the funeral. I actually have a funeral playlist on my phone. American pie is in there several times. I DO NOT CARE if people complain. You do not skip songs, you do not remove songs. You will sit there and listen to all 8 minutes as many times as I so please.”

“fourthly, that historical site MANAGED TO FIND MY LAST NAME! It’s ‘Chance’! Ironic, right? Well, even if that’s my real last name, please put “Murphy-Chance” as my last name.”

”lastly, I know I don’t really say it to anyone but Milo, but you two deserve it after all you’ve done for me. Cavendish and Dakota, I love you. You rescued me from 7 years of living hell, and basically became my parents when I had nobody else. You went above and beyond for a random, cynical teenager who drove you up the wall, sometimes purely for kicks and giggles. As far as I’m concerned, you two are my dads, and I love you. Thank you for everything. All of you. Milo, too. Thank you for being my family.”

“I’m not going to tell you not to cry. I’m not going to tell you not to feel broken inside, or lost, or like a wet pancake. That’s normal. That’s healthy. That’s grieving, something I’ve been refusing to let myself do for years, for fear it would be the final straw that broke my camel brain’s back. Please, let yourselves cry.”

“I know Dakota’s the one more likely to do it, since Cavendish is a stick in the mud- but it’s okay if you don’t go back in time to prevent whatever killed me. I’m okay.” “I ran out of things to say, so I’ll end it like this-“