"I, Miles Straume, being of sound mind and body....wait, thats a joke. Sound mind? If I was of sound mind, I wouldn't be here. When was I admitted? Oh, yeah, December 15th. What year? What year is this? I think its 2050. Tough to say. Time blends together here at the old Santa Rosa Mental Health Facility. But I guess I need the exact date to complete my voice recorded last will and testament, don't I? How the hell did I get here? I mean besides in a straight jacket. Well, I always knew there were other realms of existence. I mean I could listen to the dead since I was a kid. Dr. Crawford, he's the Director of Psychatric Services here and he gets a real kick out of listening to me tell him those stories. You see, as I got older, the dead not only continued to talk to me but they began to stalk me. I mean everywhere I'd go, I'd hear the whispers. They'd ask for my help. To take a message and deliver it to someone. Someone still alive. Someone they had loved. To tell that someone they were still here. Spritually. That they still love them. They miss them. But I was bombarded with trillions of messages. I couldn't comprehend them. I needed help to stop them. So I looked up an old friend. I went down to Mexico and spoke to an old American Medicine man named Oldham. Oldham gave me a thick syrupy substance to drink. That was a mistake. He really fried my brains. Next thing I know, I'm here. I think they bring you here to die. That's why I'm recording my last will and testament. Because they're coming for me. For all of us from that damned island. They already got Claire. She'd been here for years, I guess. They wheeled her out dead last night. Said it was natural causes but I wonder. At least I don't have to listen to that damn song anymore! Some other freak was admitted the other day that I talked to. He was jabbering about how he thought he had a wife but then he didn't because he had talked to some time traveling dude. I read in the papers that Richard Alpert had died. Now, he WAS a freak! I have weird dreams, too. I dream I'm like some kind of a detective and my partner is a guy I once knew named Ford. That's funny. James Ford was killed years ago in one of his stupid cons. I swear I should of had Lapidus turn that jet around and drop me back to that island. Whatever happened to Frank, I wonder? I wish I was back on the island. I mean, after all these years, I bet Hurley and Ben are having a hell of a time. Probably have built an amusement park on that island by now. They're all getting rich, while I rot in here. Oh, I hear someone outside my cell. Its probably Dr. Crawford. He's going to take me in for some more shock treatments. They want to help erase my memories. They say it will help me. I say they don't want me telling anyone what I know. And what they don't want you to know is......Hey! You're not Dr. Crawford! What the hell are you gonna do with that gun?........" The End.