Chapter Text
03.06.65
John died 3 days ago.
Nobody says "died" apart from me. The reporters say "passed away" and George and Rich say "gone" and Paul doesn't say much at all. There are people outside all the time now. Crying girls and cameras and men shouting questions. I hate all of them. They're acting like they're the only sad ones, and that's not fair cos I'm sad too.
Paul stayed in bed until 4 o clock today. He told me to eat something but he didn't eat anything himself. He just stared at the sandwich I tried to make for him and drank whisky until he was sick all on the carpet. I'm scared for him, he's eaten nothing more than a biscuit these past few days.
Sometimes I think if I got very sick I would die too and I could see John again.
