I’m pasting this to the cover of this journal for one important reason: this diary is no longer about me. The contents are about Ashton Sunny, a dead man. I am not Ashton Sunny. I know I write his name a fuckton in here but that’s not me. My name is actually Gerard (if we meet, don’t you dare ask me if I’ve ever heard MCR. I will scream). There isn’t a damn thing interesting about me and I plan to keep it that way, and maybe that’s why I’ve chosen instead to ramble about my dead best friend.

Just in case you found this somewhere, read everything. No one will believe you anyways.