somewhat · intact

Well, now that those .. curses have passed, I may see fit to leave my room again, and partake of the .. entertainments that this ship has to offer. I've grown rather tired of this room, and I think it's time that I try to let things go; some things, at least. There is little I have to attain by remaining locked up in here.

Heartless. Their presence here bewilders me.

From what I have gathered, this ship is between worlds. It does not belong to any one place; it gathers inhabitants from each place it visits, but in itself it is unattached, floating, a world unto itself, with no beginning and no end. If this assumption is true, the presence of the Heartless does not make any sense. Like myself, and everyone else aboard this helllish vessel, the Heartless hail from a world of their own -- our world, my world.

Could it be that when the ship made berth not that long ago -- that .. it was our world that we had stopped by? The Heartless are dwindling in numbers as we destroy them, so they obviously did not originate on this ship -- they boarded it, same as we; but where, and why?

I supose that I will never know, and that in itself frustrates me to no end. I do not like the unknown, I do not like to be 'left in the dark', to use a fitting turn-of-phrase. My mind is a sponge, I live to learn, to understand -- being unable to grasp a concept, or reason my way to an explanation .. puzzles and irritates me.

I will find a way to come to know these things.

In other news, I am glad to see that at least one of my former colleagues continues to be loyal; I find it sad that the others seem to be so flimsy in their beliefs and affiliations. I can only hope that more of the faithful will arrive; their presence and suppport are .. much needed.

.. my mind has started to clear up a bit, but only slightly. I'm still confused, still furious, still disoriented and .. still unsure of why on earth I ended up on a ship. This cannot be death; I can sense it -- I was put here for a reason, we all must have been, but it is that reason that I fail to grasp. Most everyone seems content to simply remain here -- aggravated, of course -- but I don't see anyone throwing themselves over the sides. Everything is so skewed in this place, who knows what may happen if one were to attempt that?

Being a nobody certainly helps those who wish to hide. We are nothing, therefore we need nothing; we need not venture out of our hiding places to partake of the things that 'normal' creatures need to survive. So I believe that I will stay here for some time, waiting and watching, but unmoving in the blackness. Only my eyes will pierce its curtain.

I did not know that you were here.

How long was I floating? Waiting? Cradled in the blackness, drifting and sleeping? It healed me, but only somewhat; my mind is in tatters, and I can't begin to collect the pieces -- they've been scattered to the wind, I don't even know where to begin looking.

I knew this wasn't the end. I wouldn't allow it. I refused to become nothing; I won't be only a memory. But this is what I've given myself? My body is intact, no bruises, scars or lacerations, no testament to my defeat; the proof is only in my mind, bouncing around within my shell, inside of my emptiness.

There are others here, I know; I have already seen one, but are there more? Do I want to know? Shall I hide myself away here, away from their questions, their sneers and jibes? To this day, I do not believe that what I did was wrong, and I never will; there is no reason that we should have been created, only to be spurned. Life does not waste, life does not idle; it is organized, it is wise; we were not meant to exist only to not exist.

Was I so wrong in thinking that, perhaps, I could have given us another chance?