Characters are by their own nature strange. They are the children of our minds - we know them better than we can ever know ourselves, because we have invented them, created them, they have come to us, whatever. Not a thought or a word goes by unnoticed, unchronicled - we are their gods. But when that character is your friend, and the story is their life? I don't know, I don't know. It feels too much like a death sentence.

I can't finish this story, I know this, even as I am putting in all the commas and apostrophes. I cannot finish this story because there is no ending, I cannot end it because it has not finished.

If someone were to hand you a book, and in it was your whole life, as written by someone else, could you read it? Could I? I don't know i don't know I don't know I don't know.