ADOPTED BY PHAN

AUTHOR'S NOTE

If you don't care about my personal life, just skip down to the bolded area.
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There's a big part of my life that I've hinted at, but never told. It's something that could easily upset my family, and raise pity or apologies from friends. An uncontrollable fate of human nature that should never be played this way. But still happens when nothing else will.

If you know me, you would know by now that I tend to write in a form that doesn't quite make sense. Partly due to the amount of poetry in my veins, but mostly due to the sense I'm still trying to make of life. Or rather, death.

You would also know that I had a pet bird. Had.

Unfortunately she passed away the other day. And as unreasonably ridiculous as it seems, I am upset. Not with death, or life, or humanity itself, but me. I am upset with myself. To the point where, I can't keep this up

I need to say this now, I need to warn you. If you are triggered by any mentionings of drugs, depression, or suicide; skip to the bolded area.
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The passing of my bird has triggered something in me. Something unforgettable and inevitable. No matter how far I push it back, it's still in my mind. A memory I never want to remember.

I'm about to tell you the events that took place all the while I was writing this story. I apologize if I say things too bluntly or in a confusing context. It's hard enough for me to write this, but I truly believe you deserve to know.

I've said it before, but I have a tendency to base my fictional characters off real people in my life. The one that has meant the most to me is Isaiah, because I based him off my older brother.

At the time I first started writing, my brother was distant towards me. Therefore, I claimed in the story that - although he saved Iris - Isaiah was no longer around. He meant a lot to her, however; there was that undertone of furiosity towards him for leaving. Behind everyone's anger is some form of pain. And that pain was mine, directed towards my brother's drug abuse.

I had tried countless times to help him, though he never let me in. That's why I brought Skye into the story. She was a symbol of hope for me. When times got rough in the real world, I came to Skye in the fictional world. Not because I needed her support, no. I wanted to be that support. For my brother.

Sometimes I'd cause Iris some self destruction, mimicking my brother. When things got bad for him, things would get bad for her. It got to the point where, I wrote that chapter involving Iris' suicide attempt just to try to make sense of my brother's overdose. (His OD wad an accident, and that's why I let Iris survive).

But of course, you can't solve real problems with fictional solutions.

I'm only going to say this once. After I write theses words, I'm not going to read them. I apologize if it's not a functional sentence, but regardless you'll get the point. Here we go.

October 25th, 2014. I lost my brother. This is the memory I want so badly to lose. Because I'm the one who found him. And that's why I was in recovery.

When I came back to this story, I immediately brought Isaiah back to life. I couldn't do that with my brother, so I did it with Iris'. I made his death fake and his personality evil because I was angry at my brother for leaving like this.

But as I mentioned before, behind all anger is some form of pain.

When I kicked Isaiah out of the flat in chapter thirty-five, I was honestly bawling my eyes out. I felt as if that was my final goodbye to my brother. Finally I'd uncovered all that anger and found the pain I was hiding. Everything I'd bottled up. I lost it. That's why Iris was randomly upset in chapter thirty-nine. Why she ran into Isaiah and wanted nothing more than to stay with him.

Because I want nothing more than my brother back.

Witnissing my bird die, it's only proved to me that I can't take responsibility of other's lives. I can't care for their health and stability, not before I take care of myself.

The last chapter, was my closure. Isaiah told Iris the things that I'd been needing to hear this whole year. Now that I've seen them written, I need to start living by them. That is why;
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I can no longer write this book. I know I said that I was back for good, but what's so good about it? I need to work on myself before I can work on this story. And seeing as I'm not sure how long that will take, I'm leaving this story to you.

I will not be taking it down. My account isn't going anywhere, only I am. Other social media I have accounts on will be deleted. After I post this, I won't be coming back.

You have my full permission to do whatever you want with this book. You can rewrite it, make a sequel, prequel, comment a new chapter on here. Anything.

All I ask is that you be respectful of each other. Give help when you can, and accept help when you need it. Anyone reading this could be extremely self-conscious, disabled/handicapped, bullied, mentally ill, etc. And I just want you to know, whoever you are, you are not alone.

Especially not in the Phandom.

Thank you so much for all that you've done for me. All the support and love I've received from this story is amazing. Don't worry about me, I promise I'll be okay. Until then, my heart is always with this story.
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Happy Birthday! It may not be your birthday, but somewhere someone was born on this day! x