a text dated February 11th 2010, seemingly detailing someone's last diary entry before dying. the words become more and more illegible, covered by something akin to digital ink smudges. the last sentence is completely legible: "I should go to sleep now.".
Full transcript:
February 11th 2020
I suppose there is not much time left now — it's not like I didn't know. That's what I get for [illegible] years.
I hate the food here. I don't even like [illegible] — they asked me what meal I'd like to eat last and I didn't want to be rude, so I said I'll [illegible]. I wish I could have a glass of [illegible] right about now.
I know my nephews don't know — and I don't [illegible]. I suppose I would have liked them to know, though [illegible]. I want to see them [illegible].
I'm sorry [illegible].
I'm sorry [illegible].
And I'm sorry [illegible].
I'm sorry [illegible]. [illegible] know that I was looking forward to [illegible].
I'm sorry for my husband, and my son, and [illegible].
[illegible] sorry.
The next paragraph is almost entirely illegible. The last phrase is "be happy again".
I should go to sleep now.
this is an extremely personal creative artefact - it is not a real diary entry but rather my projection of a person once very dear to me.
in reality, I am not even sure they were still conscious on that day.
the ink to me represents thier consciousness slowly disintegrating as they near the end, and the memories I have of them slowly fading as I still struggle to process their passing.
of course you are more than welcome to interpret this piece however you want.
thank you for reading.