why I am here. I begun this journal in an attempt to channel my thoughts, yet, like most of my endeavors in this new world, I feel that it has only served to deepen the pit in my stomach. Nonetheless, I will try again tomorrow. I must persist. It is all I can do.
Journal
Entry 1
It has been approximately 1,241 days since I arrived here, on "Earth". I could possibly hone this number further, but I don't like to think about it much. Despite the interactions I have had with various residents of this world, I am no closer to understanding
From what I've seen, a "little sip" could potentially result in a four foot screaming psychopath with a sword being conjured up halfway through your colon. I'm not taking responsibility for that. And if I were to perform an experiment, I would do it to something easily replaced.
Not particularly. In fact, this is actually quite new. I recently received it as a sample from my extraterrestrial mining and recon probe.
As for the life forms, they're. . . interesting. You'll see one of them around someday. Probably.
Theoretically, you could drink it, but I've only ever observed it being consumed by the same beings that were made from it. Still not sure what to make of that. I advise against it, and more importantly, will not be supplying you any.
Amongst other things. Though, that life is considered extraordinarily disposable. I need to analyze some of those forms after I finish with these samples.
I've isolated the few remaining elements that comprise this vaguely titled "elixir". Its smooth, pink appearance would lead one to believe it's a pure substance, but it's really made up of several different, perpetually active compounds. I suppose that's how it creates life.
I'm just- How exactly do you locate a "soul"? It's more of a concept than a physical object, from what I've learned. And if that's correct, how the hell does a conceptual object bind with a physical one?
I've really got no idea where to go from here.
I've got to say, this "remnant" thing is the first thing that's given me much trouble understanding in quite a while. So it has to be cartoon animal suits, why, exactly?
I'm often surprised with how long I end up going unnoticed when I retreat underground. I would assume some manner of scientist would take note of the odd patterns around my home.
Looking into this will be resigned to the backlog, however.
The tear between his morals and his logic only served to make every second lost in thought more agonizing.
Upon Tyra's entrance, Marc sat unphased. Part of him hadn't realized he was there. The part that did hadn't the energy to engage him. So, he simply continued his silence.
Sitting just around the corner from his door, Marc stared into the distance. He can't even be next to it without feeling ill.
Every so often, he would pluck a blade of grass to inspect. They were one of the last remaining souvenirs of his home, —
starting to look the way tyra tends to . the days just blend together , don’t they ? frosted grass crunches beneath the weight of a familiar pile of bones settling besides marc , subtle scent of cigarette smoke and vomit trailing the figure . hm .
and even those had begun to assimilate into the surrounding environment. Lingering on that thought for a moment, then discarding it before dwelling too long, only to return a minute later. —