The first journal entry is a very interesting read. I never knew myself as a person who enjoys reading diaries much. I always hated to see others in their own shoes. But anything that will keep my sane from this accursed place.
Bloody hell I still can't figure out where the fuck I am. The wind blows strongly still preventing me from seeing ahead. Still, I see a large lone jagged rock, jutting out from the surface. Perhaps I should run there for shelter.
The rock is quite far away so I start to flip through the next page of the journal. It seems to be an entry by someone else. The writing is much more curvy and has letters connecting together. Like a calligraphy, but not quite. I don't know what they call it, but I'm sure the writer really takes his time in putting his thoughts into his journal. As if to have others read it someday. Not like the previous entry where the strokes were harsh and bold. It shows the expressions and emotions in the writing.
But enough of that. Let's see what this fucker is on about.
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