I then had to call everyone I know, and facebook and email, that I was, in fact, alive. I even wrote a letter to the Star Tribune, asking them to clarify that not-me went to a charter school and not Anoka, so that more people would be able to figure out it wasn't me.
Even my college announced my death erroneously, an awkward mistake.
But the weirdest part was, I went to her funeral, and most of the people there were there for me. I felt really guilty for not-me's family, but kind of pleased that so many people came to my funeral, despite my widespread attempts to spread the knowledge that I was alive.
What a weird, dream, eh? That's what happens when you've been having a 1am-10am sleep schedule, and try to go for a 10pm-6am schedule for one night instead.
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