Since I all but murdered my video camera when we fell into the snowy ravine, I'm going to have to do this online. Just pretend it's midnight. And storming. And in my mansion. The bridge is probably out, too. And everyone's last name somehow conveniently corresponds to a color.

I, Brittany, being of sound... body, do hereby leave my last will and testament:

To the people I like, rifle through my good shit. I'm sure there's something you want. My computer's pretty sweet.

To the people I don't mind, fight over my extensive Beanie Baby collection from back in the day. You know you want it.

To the people I hate, get the fuck out of here you weren't invited.

To my parents, it's your own damn fault I'm dead in the first place. If you had only kept the temperature at slightly above Plutonian, we would not be in this mess. But since you have to live with that guilt, I leave you the twenty bucks I found in cleaning out my room today. And the monetarily comforting knowledge that you don't have to pay for any more of my schooling. Plus I promise not to haunt you.

Thank you for your time. Good luck with the whole living through the night thing. Especially since I don't actually have millions.

...or do I? ::raises eyebrow in correspondingly inquisitive fashion::

ink :: graphite