PART 1.

2:10 A.M.

The wind here is still strong. For some reason I find comfort in leaving the window cracked open just enough to force the draft to whistle at a pitch that used to make me imagine squeezing demonic babies and hearing their satanic cries seep out of the small sinus openings in their newly formed eyes as they were destroyed. …Jesus, this is useless. Should I really be trying this hard?
It's been too long since I've written anything.
Not in an actual timeline, though.
At least, I don't think so…
A month? 3 months? No, it's been even longer than that. But definitely not a year. Time passes differently here. Shit, I mean…time passes differently now. Or maybe it doesn't. Either way, I just looked at the last thing I wrote. The rooftop, the chase, the box…it all seems a lot longer ago than it actually was.

I can't possibly start this off where I left it. I wouldn't be able to transcribe it correctly. My head was fucked. My perception was reborn, anything that I saw, heard, felt, tasted…it was all new. It was like some shitty movie where a blind person can all of a sudden see after 30 years, but what they see is so different than what they imagined that they go crazy and stab themselves in the eyes in an attempt to retreat back to normalcy but they don't realize that the operation they got to make their eyes stronger actually made their eyes STRONGER and the knife breaks on their new invincible eyes and….fuck, its like that, but the opposite of that like…I don't know, this is retarded. I can't do this right now.


3:37 A.M.

The fact of the matter is that too much has happened since I last wrote in here. How would I sum up the 6 bajillion events that occurred over the last few months in a single night's journal entry without sounding like a boring Wikipedia page? Would I be stretching it too much if I said that after the rooftop incident I was given the responsibility of saving the world? Yah, probably. But that's what it felt like…

3:48 A.M.
The punchline to one of my favorite jokes involving an overweight Leprechaun was "I'm trying as hard as I can!" I remember that much. It's weird. I know for a fact that I told that to Ripley the day before the box arrived, but I can't seem to reach into my brain and pull the rest of that joke out for the life of me. It doesn't matter. Who's going to even know what the fuck and overweight leprechaun is now anyway? What IS a leprechaun? I might have fucking made that up!? Point is, the punchline:

"I'm trying as hard as I can."

That's my motto for this very instant. I'm trying as hard as I can to organize my fragments of experiences together for you. I tossed all of my memory-puzzle-pieces of the past few months down on the table and while trying to sort them out and find the corner pieces first, I am slowly realizing that my memories have no corner pieces. Nothing is holding these memories in order. Not even close.
"No, I learned about Bella AFTER the alarm. And the tree? Shit, it grabbed her, but why did it let her go? Oh, yah, because I told it to. No, the book she showed me…it was…shit, and Manda, did I make up that part? And he was trapped in the car, and,...I tried!"
Fragments.
Particles.
Chocolate chip morsels from my stupid mind-cookies.
Those are all that I can seem to wrangle right now.
So instead, just so I don't neglect this any further and become too scared of failure to even write in this, I'm going to start in the middle. Well, it's not really in the middle, more like BEFORE, but AFTER. It will make sense I think, if you don't dwell too much on the WHEN, and listen to the WHAT.
Because the "WHAT" is a stack of sweat-yellowed paper…

with someone else's memories on them….