Dear journal, I know I have never started an entry like this, nor have I ever referred to you in any shape way or form other than the rare third person, but I figured that extraordinary times call for cliched reactions that will help water them down. This is the part I had already pre-planned, by the way. I thought about it in the shower and managed to retain it until I started writing. From now on, I have no idea what I’m going to talk about.

  Start from why I’m going back to why I’m writing a journal, I guess. That’s what I did last time, right? I know that my first entry started with those three reasons of why to write a journal, but I don’t know if I actually wrote anything of substance besides that. Well, to be fair, last time was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. I can’t actually remember what gave me the final push, but I was probably depressed or anxious or both and wanted to let out some emotion and feel like I’m doing something to improve my life, so I started writing it one night. This time, it’s not like that. This time, it’s premeditated.

  So, for posterity’s sake, let me give the full rundown of the event. This way, I won’t need to wonder about what led me to start doing something that will become incredibly consequential for my life (because even though I don’t have access anymore to my old journal—which you will know because this a brand new document—I know I was a piece of shit and didn’t say anything about what led me to start writing in the first place). Well, that was a long fucking parentheses. I can’t very well keep on with this paragraph, right? It would be super fucking long.

  I already started wanting to write a journal again last week, on Friday I think. But if not, then definitely a week ago on Saturday. Cause I remember going back and forth after I finished studying that day. I spent like ten whole minutes just mentally debating with myself, which made me feel like shit. Anyway, I decided that I’ll leave writing for one more week. Save it for today, the last day of the trimester break. Don’t know why. It’s not like anything’s going to change for me. Well, that’s not true. Stuff is definitely going to change. Also, I do know why. It felt symmetrical to wait for today, whatever that means.

  But I still haven’t answered the real question, right? Why did I want to start writing a journal again in the first place? Well, remember the first reason from last time (at least I think it was the first reason)? It’s pretty much the only reason now. What did I call it last time? Probably “psychological reason” or something like that. Making myself feel better. Self introspection. Emotional outlet. Mood stabilization. Any other buzzwords that I might’ve missed? Probably, but that’s beside the point. We’re both very familiar with this kind of reasoning. The question is, why now? Or why a week ago? Why not when I first got my bearings after getting here? Or why not on that fucking Friday six weeks ago? I felt like shit even since I got here, haven’t I? And I was already aware of the benefits writing a journal might bring me. So why not anytime before last Saturday (or Friday)?

  Shit, I don’t have a clue. My thoughts just haven’t managed to materialize themselves into want, I guess? Like I said, before, with the old journal, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I never wrote a journal before that. It took that one chance decision to create the possibility of adopting a habit that I had never clocked as available up till then. But now, I already knew I could write a journal, I already knew it was good for me. It was already on the table. So maybe… I just wasn’t ready yet? Emotionally unavailable and all that shit. Maybe it had to do with my time usage? I don’t know. Listen, I really want to give my future self a good answer (if they ever come back to read this) but I just don’t have any good one. Maybe it was exactly like last time. I suddenly decided that I wanted to write a journal again… Only this time I gave myself a date instead of starting right there and then? That doesn’t make much sense (well… unless… nah, that can’t be it).

  Whatever. I don’t know. The point I’m trying to make is that the main reason I’m writing this is to help me feel better. All the buzzwords I already mentioned and whatnot. Of course, there is, possibly, another reason. That I’m writing this for other people to read this. It’s not a reason, cause I don’t want other people to read this. I don’t give a crap about historical accuracy or people using my journal in their history books like I’m some kind of Prussian crown prince.

  But what about you reading this, you ask (fuck what a confusing sentence)? What about your eyes? Well, asshole, if I’ll read this, it’ll be for the aforementioned emotional reasons, and no other. It’s to make me feel better by seeing how far I’ve come and how much I’ve overcome and all that other shit. Keep a tally on my life and my achievements. Like I wanted to do the last time, but I didn’t cause it took me like half a year to realize how I should be writing a journal. Nah, I don’t think it’s true, actually. I feel like it only took me a week or so to start writing the date (lol, but how long did it take me to start writing the year?). And the date’s the most important part cause it provides a direct contrast between who you were and who you think you were. I remember having a lot of fun going back to very first entries sometimes. Definitely should do that in the future as well.

  God. Can you imagine? Me just sitting somewhere, a drink in my hand cause I’m planning to throw the day away getting drunk, and just reading this? That would be fucking awesome. I would’ve won the war, saved the Web, did all the shit current me is worried about, so there would be no reason not to reward myself by taking a trip down memory lane and rejoicing in the unrealized fears of my past self. I’ll probably never do that, though. It would be what? Let’s say twenty years of entries (if I keep writing them consistently)? There’s no way I’ll get through that in a day. Hell, I didn’t even get a tenth of the way through the reread of my journal when it was less than a year after I started (although, to be fair, I was sick on my birthday back then. And I think that it was actually a year and a half). Still, it’s a nice picture to dream about.

  But I guess that I can use it more strategically as well (it would still be for the first reason, obviously). Like seeing how far I’ve come in a trimester or a year. Writing stuff like “today I started studying imprinting” and then coming back to it when I finished imprinting a really difficult pattern. That sounds nice. It’s like those couple of times I went hunting in my old journal because I wanted to know when I started doing that or when something happened to me. And you get that glimpse of your past life, of something that seemed so minor turning into a monumental event.

  Of course, that’s only if things get better. Reading the journal when I was recovering in the hospital didn’t help me in the slightest. “Oh, you don’t enjoy reading about the period in your life when you felt super happy and proud of yourself and thought things were only going to get better, when it’s pretty damn obvious that they had, in fact, gotten much worse?” Fucking hell, here’s a contrast to that nice picture from two paragraphs ago: Imagine me sitting in a dark cave, reading this entry on my phone as the Epiraks are closing down on my position or whatever and New Terra is about to be captured. That’s fucking grim. And yeah, I know combat won’t really work like that, but you get the picture.

  But that’s not going to happen right? Because I’m going to win. I’m going to save everyone. So no need to worry about finding myself in worse circumstances than right now. Fuck’s sake, how could it get worse? Well it could easily get worse. I meant how it could get worse while ending up with me succeeding. And yeah, it could still get worse for that scenario as well. But let’s not think about those options, shall we? I’m deep enough in my anxiety as it is.

  Anyway, does all this bullshit meandering cover me as far as explaining why I started writing this journal (again) goes? I feel like it does. If there’s anything else I want to say on the subject, it’s not coming to me right now. Which means that we can move on to something of substance, right? Wrong. We still need to put on paper how I’m going to write this journal. Because I also didn’t do it last time and I remember feeling bad about not chronicling my journey with the journal (heh) better. But this’ll be quick, I promise.

  So obviously we have to place writing this in the last hour and a half of my day, in my “most” free time, which is (for now, at least) unquestionably rigid. I know this brings us back to that discussion I had about what showering and mediating counts as but I’m not going to reopen those here. The status quo remains. Only thing that’s changing is that in the last hour and a half of my day, before I go to bed, I’m going to open this document, read the previous entry and write a new one. That’s also something that I didn’t start with last time, by the way, took me a couple of weeks (I think) until I settled on reading what I wrote the previous day before I started writing for the current one.

  But at this point, I’m already experienced in journal writing (keeping?), I know what I’m doing and what want to do. So that’s that. Read the previous entry and write a new one. Also, if for some reason I didn’t read the previous entry the day prior (or entries) I have to read it (or them) before writing the new one. Essentially, I have to read everything I write it at least once.

  Which leaves us only with the exact time of writing and reading. An hour and a half is a pretty big block of time, after all. Well, for now, I’m not putting down an exact time. Except that it has to be before 2315. Because I need to give myself enough time in case I wrote a lot on the previous day and I also want to write a lot on the current day. And yeah, I know, this pretty much guarantees that I’ll just be writing here at eleven every day, but still. The important thing is that I’m not totally rigid with this and I allow myself some wiggle room (such as not writing or reading when I really don’t feel like it or when it’s really late). Besides, I’m writing this today at 2230, so it’s not a certainty that I’ll write at the same time every day.

  But that’s it for the meta explanation, right? I covered why and when and how… I don’t need to cover what, and who isn’t applicable. Yeah… I think that’s all for this formal explanation that I so “greatly regret” not doing last time. Just took me a long ass fucking time to write this. But who cares? I started writing at ten-thirty, which means that I set aside the rest of my day in case that’s how long it took me to write this entry. Luckily, I don’t actually partake in the trimester break because this would be a shit way to end it.

  Fuck’s sake, can we get this part done with already? Start writing about something concrete? Actual fucking journaling? Yes. Yes we can. Let’s start with this right now. And let’s start all the way back, because of course we should.

  So, it’s been roughly a hundred and something years since I last wrote an entry. And yes, that sentence (including this meta one and the one to follow it) was also pre-thought, and stolen from the way the Catholic Church is portrayed in media. Anyway, I don’t remember exactly when I was taken so I don’t know exactly when the last entry was. But I do remember coming back to writing them. So let’s go all the way back there.

  I had an accident and was in the hospital and got taken by magic from that hospital. End of my first life. Which, of course, brings us to what I only realized last week during my therapy appointment that almost caused me to spiral back into complete depression afterwards. I fucking disappeared! Yeah, I guess I’m just a total asshole because it took me so fucking long to ask the basic question of how I was taken. And it turned out that I simply disappeared. One moment I was there, and another, when no one was looking, I wasn’t. Which means that instead of just feeling bad about family and… friends dying in the ashes and debris of Earth, I should also feel bad about them not knowing what the fuck happened to me. Although… I really fucking hope that they realized I was taken once reports of what the Taken are started rolling in. I don’t know… there’s not a whole lot of records from back then. I don’t know what the people were thinking.

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  But anyway, we’ll have plenty of time talking about my old life in the future. I already spent longer than I wanted talking about it with my therapist. Today’s entry is for the present. My current life. Which started… what? Seventeen weeks ago? And two days? Jesus Christ. Seventeen fucking weeks, mate. How the fuck am I gonna recap seventeen weeks? How the fuck has it been seventeen weeks? Why the fuck can I not decide whether it feels like it’s been longer than seventeen weeks or shorter? Fuck it, whatever, seventeen weeks it is.

  Do I really need to recount what happened to me since then? I guess I should. Like that’s the whole point of being thorough, and explaining everything in detail, so that when I’ll come back to read this, I’ll have the full picture in front of me. But I’m not going to sit here and recount to you these last seventeen fucking weeks. No fucking way. If I ever want that full a picture I’ll just read all the reports people have been writing about me.

  So I’ll just give you the short version:

  I find myself in a black void. Then I’m laying on the ground naked but I’m blind. Then I’m in an infirmary. Then someone tells me that I’m a Taken and I don’t really get what they mean. But she also tells me that Earth is destroyed and I understand that. Then (Jesus Chirst is there a better word than “then?” Fuck’s sake, this is going to be unreadable) I take a helicopter ride to the hospital. You know what the hospital is, asshole. It’s here in the academy. I meet Maurice. He tells me a bunch of stuff. We find out I’m a Thread-Weaver (I don’t know what that means at the time (like I know all that much today)). Yada-yada, I meet Sarah, the great and wonderful Sarah and oh God, I owe her so fucking much, I fucking love her. She tells me a whole other bunch of stuff. I probably forget most of them by the time we part our ways.

  Then, dear reader, then comes the coup de grace of the whole shitty fucking day. And yes, I am going to write this out in detail. I asked Web-Web about it a couple of times out loud. They didn’t answer me so I’m guessing that writing this in a document is alright as long as I’m the only one who will read it (which is the not selfish reason why this file is password protected, in a folder that’s hidden and password protected, in a password and fingerprint protected new laptop (not the reason why it took me a week to start writing, it got here on Monday) that’s not allowed access to the internet). Fuck, where was I? Right, yeah, Web-Web didn’t say anything was wrong with me writing about them and… everything else. Which means that I’m going to be clear as fucking possible, spell it all out.

  I ended my first day on New Terra with a voice in my head talking to me. Two days later, I named that voice Web-Web. That voice is… shit, I don’t know how to explain it. Let’s just call them an AI. I don’t want to get into what Web-Web is because I still don’t fucking know, and it’s driving me insane. Anyway, that voice is, was the AI in charge of the Web or something. They were the one who “took” me. Why did they do that? Because their former “whole” self ran a calculation that foresaw that the Epiraks were going to win the war—which means killing everyone else in the Web, by the way. They then decided that I was the best chance the Web had to win against the Epiraks (because of shitty fucking reasons), so they split their consciousness off and placed themselves inside my head.

  Wow. That doesn’t make a lick of sense. Seriously, I hope to God that I won’t suffer amnesia in the future and actually need this for refresher (and how would I even access the file?) because I’m rereading the last paragraph and it’s pure nonsense. But it’s fine. I get the deal. You, future me, also know the deal. The world is doomed. I’m the only one that can save it. Everything else is window dressing. Of course, that’s only if we believe Web-Web and… yeah, that’s a whole beast of a topic unto itself.

  So that’s how I ended the first day of my new life. Crying and scared and anxious and feeling like shit and scared and anxious… Yeah, if I remember it now, after seventeen (fucking) weeks, then I’ll probably remember it in the future as well. That’s not true, but whatever. I don’t want to get into the depressing conversation about memory retention. This entry is to consist of just the depressing elements that stem from the recount of everything that happened to me since I (theoretically) last wrote a journal entry.

  Moving on. I joined the academy (technically only on Sunday, though) had a meeting with Dan, Maurice, and Esther (a Ruler… Why did I explain that?) who confirmed I was a Thread-Weaver. Then ended the day in this very room (thanks Dan). Day after went shopping with Sarah. Had my second talk with Web-Web (was when I named them) that evening. Sunday, started studying with Dan, who became or will become my personal tutor. Oh, also first session with Lin. And what a session that was, wasted so much of his fucking time. To be fair, though, I was in real shit shape back then, so it’s no wonder I had to spend half of that session resting on my ass.

  Day after (fuck, why am I narrating every single day?) met Felix and Yvessa. Had my third conversation with Web-Web. OK, this is seriously ridiculous. It’s pointless. Let’s just finish by saying that on Tuesday I underwent my Awakening (yeah, I know), met Farris and that’s it. What more do we need to fucking recount? Farris made himself my mentor. Great. Moving on.

  Time passed wonderfully because I was immune to negative psychological effects. I studied with Dan. Trained with Lin. Worked out with Sarah (and Felix and Yvessa). Cultivated and studied a lot in my free time. Then it all came crashing down when my brain got used to magic and that immunity ran out. But we know all about that, right? There’s no need to tell about that period in detail because it’s the most recent. Let’s just say that I entered into a deep state of depression, anxiety, and all the other negative emotions that are applicable. And although it’s gotten better, I’m still in the bog compared to before the magic ran out. Oh, and I started going to therapy.

  So how I have been spending the weeks since then? Slowly trying to go back to my old schedule from before. Almost four weeks ago, I came up with a new schedule that’s supposed to inch me closer towards the old one. And it worked wonders. As of this last week, I have returned to studying and cultivating on Sunday evenings, just like I do on even days. A day before that, I also returned to studying on Saturday. Just one subject for now, which means that I can be really flexible with the amount of studying I do on Saturdays. I’m doing it after my one hour of cultivating (thankfully, I have been able to easily slot both into my timetable).

  And that’s it really, my recent life in fewer words than it took me to talk about why I’m writing this journal in the first place. Not much to talk about, huh? Well, that’s not true. I could talk a lot more about my recent life, but I just don’t want to right now. Besides, usually these entries are just a retelling of what I did on the current day. That’s one day and one day only. You want me to go back over however many days it has been?

  So let’s retell today then. Woke up feeling pretty good. And isn’t that nice to write? Instead of all the entries that started with me saying that sleep was shit. One point in favor of my new life. So woke up pretty energetic, and feeling better than the average from the last couple of weeks. Went to my session with Lin, was really fucking hard but he did help me with my recovery tracings afterwards to compensate. Come to think of it, he probably knows that Sarah’s planning to change my workout routine tomorrow, so that’s why he did that. Sort of broke his rule of no magic, but whatever.

  Afterwards, grabbed myself breakfast and went to meet Farris. We actually had a fairly educational meeting today, and I think I’m slowly wearing him down and soon enough we won’t be meeting every week. Not that I have a problem with the meetings, even when they’re not educational. I have no problem counting them as leisure, and for now, at least, I have plenty of free time on Saturday. I just don’t want Farris to spend so much time on me. Yeah, I don’t know… He’s a busy man. Feels weird to have him do that when he has so much on his plate. Of course, considering what I know, it makes sense, but still. Eh, he knows what he’s doing. So if he wants to meet with me every week, that’s up to him.

  Like I said, today was pretty educational. We covered spearfighting, my progress with tracing patterns and theory and, of course… cultivation. Which is something from yesterday, but still. I had my second (or third? Fourth?) test of how close I am to level 1. Last time it was 13%. It has been… I don’t know, ten, elven weeks since then? 39%. Hooray, right? It’s a great fucking pace. Fucking phenomenal. And we shouldn’t forget that in the last six weeks I have been not putting as many hours into cultivating as I did before (and that my efficiency wasn’t all that great either). But 39%… there’s no way I won’t make it to level 1 at this rate. Even if I just keep going as I am right now, qualitatively. Which isn’t a possibility because I’m getting better at seeking and excavating every day. So yeah, sixteen weeks, 51% of progress to make, more than manageable.

  Farris was very congratulatory and happy with himself. So were everyone else. Great applause to go all around. Sam showcases his talents and perseverance. All right, all right, I get it. I’m willing to concede that this is indeed a reason for pride and that my rate of progress with cultivation has been stellar. I’m also willing to admit that it’s a great load off of my chest to know (or be as sure as humanly possible) that I’ll make it to level 1 before the next year starts and all the deadlines that will come with it.

  And yeah, I still am worried about my progress after level 1 because I do realize that it will be slower than right now. But I don’t care about that all that much. What I’m most worried about is that even if it wouldn’t get any slower due to having more ground to cover and I would still be able to gain one level every half a year. That would still be too slow. Because Web-Web told me that I’ll need to be at level 10 in five years (or a Ruler in five years, I don’t even remember anymore) and how the fuck am I going to make that a possibility in the real world when it isn’t even mathematically possible in a fake ideal world?

  Like, leave aside all the studying and planning I will need to do at level 8 and 9 for the patterns. Just energy-wise. How the fuck am I going to climb all the way up there in five years? And yes, I know Web-Web has a plan or something. But what the fuck is that worth when they’re functionally amnesiac?! Oh, I just got to trust that the plan you made for me before, when you were much smarter than you currently are (still dumb enough to decide that I’m the chosen one), is still in play and somehow makes sense? Fucking hell. But, it’s not like I have any other choice, right? So fuck it. Be happy with 39%. Be happy with reaching level 1 super fucking fast.

  Just keep going as you are, as fast as humanely possible. As long as Web-Web doesn’t say anything, that must mean everything is alright. So I’ll get to level 2 when I get there. And level 8 as well. Don’t need to worry about that. The only thing I need to worry about are the reasonable, commonplace level worries. So hopefully I’ll be able to make it to level 4 in three and a half years. I really don’t want to fight without having Body Protection imprinted.

  God, I can’t wait until I’m level 1 and can actually start doing some real magic. The recovery tracings are nice, but even if I could consistently manage more than just the two, they’re still somewhat lackluster compared to being resistant to bullets. At least I’m coming along nicely with the recovery tracings, though, yeah? Sarah got her prediction right and everything. Only two weeks of practicing them were necessary so that she could start wringing me out again. But that’s for tomorrow, and tomorrow’s entry.

  For now, we’re going back to my meeting with Farris. I finished my meeting with Farris. What? We talked about my studies and he lectured me a bunch. What’s more to say? Nothing, that’s what. So I went back to my room and read One Piece (because I’m an idiot) until lunch. Ate lunch with Felix and Yvessa. Afterwards, cultivated for an hour (was pretty good) and studied statistics for about two hours. Went fine, as you can see from the time it took me to get through the material. Dried out my core tracing the recovery tracings. Which doesn’t count as training. Even though I went through all of them. It was still for practical purposes and not tracing for tracing’s sake.

  Played a little until dinner (after I managed to wrench myself away from watching ViewTube). And we finished the day by going to the pet restaurant again. Felix really loves that place. Apparently he even went there with his family… Yeah so… I’m getting a little choked up writing this, but Rufus also came to sit by me again. Fuck’s sake, it’s not fair. It’s like the opposite of thinking you’re living in a simulation because bad things keep happening to you (or not the opposite, but just the good symmetric counterpart). I don’t know, maybe the cat just likes me. I like him. Wish I could adopt him. I can’t though. That dream is dead.

  Fuck, I had a good time. Why’d I have to go and make myself depressed for no reason? We went to the restaurant, had a great time, and that’s it. Moving on. Once I came back, I took a shower and then mediated (was OK; I was thinking a lot about what I was going to write here). Then I just wasted time in various ways until it was 2230, which brings me to here and ends the day (that I can report on).

  So yeah, that was today. What else do I need to talk about? I’m sitting around staring at the screen and nothing comes to mind. So I think I’ll just end it here. Hopefully, I’ll read this tomorrow and manage to sustain this new (old) practice of mine. But I’ll be honest with you, I’m not too worried about that. This has been fun. Almost cathartic. And with having therapy tomorrow, there’s no fucking way I won’t be able to force myself to sit down and write (even if I won’t want to). So yeah, that’s all for today. Goodnight!!