This is...an interesting concept to me. Writing in something...talking about things. I...cannot get the hang of this. Anyways...today's the first day of freedom out of that hellhole known as jail. Again. I was told to get a journal or something, and that my psychiatrist would look it over when I met him next...
I'd rather make him pay for forcing me to sit in that boring old room, droning on and on about what's 'wrong with me'. Really...there's nothing wrong with me! He just says that because I keep ending up in prison. He doesn't know me, like he pretends to.
Gah...I'm ranting to paper. Paper! I've gone from the Queen of the Prison (In my own mind...I'm the one that beat the other guy! He didn't take me down!) to, once again, a 'thug'. Tch...people are so stupid. I'm not a thug...I'm someone who does what she can to survive!
Even if that does mean that I have to beat a person down to make a point, that's good enough for me. Now...let's see. Blade? Check. Pistol? Check. Smoke bombs? Check. Noise makers? Check. Let's go steal some things!
Wait...did that person not have a reflection or something?...bah. My imagination. Should probably get some actual sunlight now...cause frankly, this is slightly annoying...I'm still writing. I should not be writing. Why am I still writing? Gah! I'll probably come back...stupid thing...
Journal of Hunger
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Re: Journal of Hunger
Your psychiatrist will surely look it over and look into it carefully, Ue.
Void... Violent void ... Void ... Write down your thoughts...
Void... Violent void ... Void ... Write down your thoughts...