You managed to post a selfie that was sexy, cute, and badass all at once, and it literally killed me, and now I am dead. Here are my comments.

emilymcwinter OMG I’m dead.

emilymcwinter DEAD!!!

emilymcwinter D-E-A-D, HONEYYYY!

emilymcwinter R.I.P. ME!

emilymcwinter Put me on a raft and push me out to sea!

emilymcwinter Donate my organs!

emilymcwinter Scatter my ashes!

emilymcwinter Study my brain goo!

emilymcwinter Give my Marc Jacobs dress to my sister.

emilymcwinter Wait, wait, put some of my ashes in a necklace. Or a dildo! They can do that now!

emilymcwinter See you at the coffin shop.

emilymcwinter Cross out my eyes.

emilymcwinter Commission a portrait.

emilymcwinter Build a pyramid around my remains.

emilymcwinter River Styx, bitch!

emilymcwinter Erect a monument outside of my favorite dive bar.

emilymcwinter BoooOOOOOoooooOOOo!

emilymcwinter I’m gonna break your plates in the night.

emilymcwinter DO YOU THINK I AM A HOT GHOST!?

emilymcwinter Here lies Emily “Potato Legs” Winter. 1203 Instagram Followers.

emilymcwinter Emily Winter, age [redacted in case they want me to play a teen corpse on a CW show], was found dead in her bed Thursday with her phone over her eyes.

As a child, Emily had the fat kind of head that you could slide between two banisters but then not get out. As such, Emily had a lot of time to think, and one thing she decided was that she had to get out of her small Midwestern town, where the coolest things to do were shoot your pellet gun into mounds of snow, rock back and forth in your dad’s broken canoe in the garage while listening to Meat Loaf’s Greatest Hits, and slide your head between the banisters.

Despite her tubby frame, Emily was quick with a fly swat, and spent much of her youth making piles of dead bugs. It gave her a sense of purpose and accomplishment, and she wanted more. So she went far away, to a scary, big, important place: The University of Wisconsin.

During college in Madison, Emily dated a Truther who had made a raft out of garbage. They bonded over naming it: New World OAR-der. 9/11 Was an Inside Jib. Or Emily’s favorite: Think A Boat It.

They broke up fighting about whether George Bush kept a sex dungeon full of missing children.

After graduating and moving to New York, Emily became very successful and beautiful and had that kind of big time career where you could still wear jeans. But as a professional, Emily had a hard time asking for raises, because she knew some very bad things about herself, like how she once ate a beetle out of the carpet because she thought it was a Raisinet. Still, she made billions of dollars because she was a great writer, and good at spreadsheets, and could look a man right in the eye and, say “Gee I never would have thought of that.”

Emily is survived by a pitbull named Bingo, and her boyfriend Chris, who does not have a social media addiction.