April 13, 1983
Metal bars and that goddamn owl are the only things I see these days. Why the fuck does it just stare at me? What does it want? It’s always there, but never close enough to catch. What kind of prison allows birds to fly around like they fucking own the place?
Those goddamn inmates below me won’t stop fucking around, always waking me up in the middle of the night with their bullshit, fuck I dream about showing them who they really are, pulling out their insides. One more night without sleep and I’m going to stab that son of a bitch next time I see him. Obviously today is not going well for me, I haven’t had cigarettes in days and that fucking owl just seems to be getting closer every minute. Johnny better have something for me soon or I’m going to lose it.
This whole writing thing seems to be helping more than I had initially thought. The pulsing odd feelings of hatred are starting to come into focus, and my memories seem to be coming back to me a little bit more everyday. Someday everything will make sense, my reasons will soon be understood.
April 17, 1983
Today went very well for once! I actually finished reading ‘The Book of the Law’ for the ninth time which is a miracle considering where my heads been lately. I can barely stay conscious most of the time, barely even able to feed myself. If only I could remember what happened. One week I don’t sleep, constantly feeling like I could run a marathon, and the next I’m drained like a fucking typical pathetic human. I site in here waiting to die while the rest of the shit heads destroy themselves and their planet.
My dreams have been trying to tell me the things I need to know, but upon waking everything just falls apart again. Somehow that damn owl knows all of this, It knows everything! That stupid fuck just sits there mocking me. It won’t tell me who I am! I’ve been trying to catch him using pieces of bread with no luck. I need to think of something soon, I feel like this may be my last chance to know who I am before they kill me.
April 19, 1983
That son of bitch has done it this time. I won’t just sit here and take this shit anymore! Last night I woke up to their bullshit screaming again, and that damn owl had me pinned to my bed. I couldn’t move or even breath under the weight of that thing! How could an owl have that much power? His presence is getting stronger and stronger after every passing day, and I feel like it will soon tell me the truth as to why I’m here, why nobody believes me. I am not playing games, my life is not a fucking game!
Although my hatred for that owl grows constantly, i have to admit that It’s eyes are quite beautiful…they almost kinda feel familiar. I feel like this owl has been with me for a long time, long before i got locked up. It knows why I’m here, why I had to kill those people. I need a cigarette.
April 20, 1983
I know who I am now, and why our blood is so pure, so metallic. Today I’m going to kill an inmate, that bastard who kept me up all night will be sleeping with the fishes soon. After killing him, the owl will come to me. I found it before within the blood of those men, and now it resides inside of me. What am I saying, it’s always been here, leading me along like a dog on a leash.
The reason I’m here is because I’ve fulfilled my duty, and my paradise awaits me in the afterlife. Humankind is and has always been, a mistake. People like me are put on this planet to correct that mistake. God works in mysterious ways.
On my chest while I sleep, on my shoulders while I’m awake, the owl pulls my strings. It retains its hierarchy while forever feeding my disdain for humanity. I look deep into the owl’s eyes and i see myself. I see hatred. I am the embodiment of contempt in human form. The owl is just the messenger. It has always been the messenger.
“I’ve made up stuff that’s turned out to be real, that’s the spooky part.”