Epilogue - Kelly Mahan Jaramillo Explains

Well, it is only me here now. The cabin is empty, the WME has been empty for years - I occasionally come by and sweep, dust, clear out a few cobwebs, shred the occasional old file I might find, yelllowed and curling at the corners.

I was in charge of Peter's attempt at keeping this journal of the future, and he did an okay job, I think - but in going through some of his writings here, I read that he let his emotions concerning certain subjects get the better of him. Considering that many of his best friends had undergone changes that rendered them unrecognizable, others disappeared, some died, and some showed up briefly, I can hardly blame him.

However, he wrote one entry that I feel was not necessary - he did not stop and think about what he was doing - he got pushed too far by certain parties, and he lashed out. I am responsible for him, and I should have stopped it. In publishing certain details, he let loose some very personal information about myself and others, and frankly, I am embarrassed. To let old grievances air out in public after so many years constitutes a loss of ones dignity - it does not matter how much one feels justified. To anyone whom that now deleted post caused hurt, I am terribly sorry. We all pretended everything was okay for much too long, and I can only speak for myself/Peter - we never fully addressed the depth of the pain that was caused so long ago.

However, at this point in time, those issues need to be taken up with a professional in private. Peter and Jordan are dead, and I am the only one left to pick up the pieces of who they might have been.

It is time for me to stop coming by here, stop sweeping the pain and dusting the resentment, stop reading the files and stop wondering what the children would have been like. My life was not meant to go that way, and I believe it is time to do one last scrubbing of the place, then lock it up and toss the key. I would get rid of the whole building, but sometimes people like to come by and read about the UCLA study or Julianne, so why not leave it up for them? Besides, it represents a time that I would like to preserve, but not so much for myself anymore. There is still so much life ahead! Yes, a lot has burned to the ground, and I have to be careful picking around the smoldering landscape, but here and there I see shoots of green out of the blackened tree trunks, and I have hope.

To the folks who have enjoyed this bizarre story, thank you for reading. To the people for whom it got personal, please accept my apologies for the lashing out. It was never premeditated, and if I could roll the clock back three years and never have written it, I would do so.

There is only one road these days, and it only goes forward. I wish you all a safe journey.

Kelly Mahan Jaramillo