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I feel…hungover. It feels like my brain has been spinning nonstop and reading this fucking book—

My thoughts can’t land on any one idea, I’m taking in too much information and spitting too many theories out that it’s all becoming mush and I’m not sure anything I’ve said on here has made sense in weeks and I—I don’t want to be doing this fucking alone anymore!

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There. I said it. I don’t want to be doing this alone. It’s—it’s too much. Even if I’m the one responsible for all of it, if I’m the one who has to carry the burden of the horrible truth that I discover at the end of all this…I don’t want to hunt for that truth by myself anymore. 

I—I could go searching for other people that I think might still be here. Based on the ripple I caused. But that’s…it feels potentially extremely fruitless. And I know that Harry is here. I don’t know if she’ll be happy to see me, if she’ll even be at our house anymore, but I…

I know she wants answers just as much as I do. 

I have to go back. 

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