My Dear, Baby,

I am writing this to you as if as I was in hell. Unfortunately, this is that reality. My face is slowly pulling and falling apart. So I won't be able to show any emotions for a while.

My maladaptive daydreaming has asserted me into endless, mind-numbing corridors I can't seem to escape. I can hear the screams of victim's attached to Stiles Falls. Sometimes I pass doors that lead to the black and white void, other times, there's a dog made of Legos. 

Please end my torment, I don't want to live on.

Sincerely, Dr. Pitaya.