Please read "The Mind" before reading this one...it will help for the continuity...if there even is one. I wouldn't know...I'm insane, after all.


If one is supposed to do what is expected of him and do everything that is right, what happens when that person's moral compass is missing? I happen to be one of those people, and I really don't mind it at all. After all, why would I want to regret something? It's not like regretting anything is going to make it right again after you've done the deed, right? I mean, if I were to kill someone and not regret it, what would it matter? The person I killed would not come back, would they? If they did, then I would have obviously apologized, but that would imply that I am sorry for what I did, and I can't have any of that, so I would most likely kill the person again.

Before you dismiss me as a madman, I must remind you that I am after all seeing strange beings in my dreams that will not leave me alone, no matter what I do. If I am supposed to live with these Beings for the rest of my life, then what does it matter if I have a bit of fun in the meantime? It's not like anyone gets hurt…apart from the person that is killed, of course.

Obviously, if there is such a thing as a god, which I highly doubt, that person will go to the place that's called Heaven, because I wouldn't only be going after the ones who follow the path of the hoofed one. No, I will get rid of anyone who stands in my way or tries to talk me out of it.

If you read my previous report, you will understand that my mind has finally snapped, and I have nothing left now apart from being as crazy as I can before they come to take me away…to that place where The Beings can come and harass me as they please. Maybe Jack will come for a visit…

Okay, so that was a small piece of aggression I needed to get out of my head. I was taken to a doctor today…not the kind that sticks an old ice cream stick down your throat and makes you utter guttural sounds. This was the talking kind, the one that bothers me the most. What exactly makes one qualified to listen to and understand what I think and feel? What gives them the right to declare me sane or not? I think it's up to the individual rather than having someone slap you with a "crazy" tag and take you away to somewhere you will never ever feel happy or elated again? I have long since realised that I'm not a very stable individual, but I had that "epiphany" on my own when Jack came to my room, and that doctor never bothered to really listen to me anyway. He said some random sentences about "possible schizophrenia" and "social anxiety". Is that what I have is called? I wouldn't know, I'm not a talking doctor.

I'm sure you have noticed I repeatedly point out what I'm not and what I haven't done, and there is a reason for that. I like to confirm things with myself so I will know that whatever pill I'm fed isn't screwing around with my memory. They can do that, you see. The "doctors", as they call themselves, don't want me to be healthy, they want to keep buying their masters' pills and paying for expensive time at their institutions…I don't need an institution, I've got a perfectly usable one in my dreams, complete with orderlies, and best of all: it's free.

Jack did come back, by the way. He was not very happy with me, especially when I told him I didn't want anything do with him…he is an extremely impatient and aggressive fellow. The strange thing about The Being that is Jack is that he does not seem to possess any emptiness. Every little corner of him is filled to the brim…with hatred…for me. And again, I don't understand what it is I have done to make The Beings hate me so. I tried asking, but he never answered…but then again, he never said anything either. In fact, Jack didn't come back…now that I think about it, I don't think he was ever here. Maybe the "doctor" was onto something about the schizophrenia thing…but he didn't explain the social anxiety. What does that mean anyway? I've never understood the words…anxiety means that I don't feel comfortable or safe, right? And social means being around other people…how can I be socially anxious if I'm never social? Sure, I have friends, but I rarely participate in our conversations. Usually it's a snide comment about someone's looks or a concurring murmur.

They don't think of me as strange, I've been like this for as long as they can remember, but apparently, my guardians do. I refuse to call those people my "parents", it's obvious they're not. The way they look at me…penetrating gazes, judging eyes. "Why were we cursed with this" they ask themselves when our eyes meet. It's okay, I don't blame them. Who would be proud of having a schizophrenic and socially anxious charge?

I've given the matter further thought, and I've concluded that the talking "doctor" is wrong. I'm not schizophrenic, and I'm certainly not anxious. I'm just…not very social, yes that's a good way to describe it, don't you think?

School…well, let's just say that we're not very good friends. I just said the stupidest thing I've ever seen or heard. You can't be friends with a building; it's an inanimate object, a thing!

Why is it that…well, look who's here, took him long enough. Jack isn't smiling at me. How I know that is a mystery to me since Jack has no distinguishable features or limbs. Sometimes he has an arm…sometimes two…sometimes he even has four. What he uses them for I will never find out…not that I want to either. Jack is saying something…well; saying is perhaps the wrong word. He's hissing at me. Probably because he has forbidden me to speak of The Beings and him to anyone. As if he can anything to me. He can't touch me, because he's not even here. Am I making any sense? I don't think I am. Those pills must be worse than I thought. What does the label say anyway? "Don't ingest if under the influence…" blah, blah, blah.

I'm always under the influence, but not in the traditional sense. Have I just unwittingly committed suicide? If I have, then…what will I do? Since I've expressed wishes of killing someone, doesn't that mean that I will go to Hell? Or maybe Purgatory…oh wait, they say the Pope himself has declared it to not exist. Right, so I've got two choices: Heaven, or Hell. I think I'll choose…wait, I'm not a believer, so doesn't that mean I will go straight to Hell anyway? Or maybe I will just…disappear into the darkness. That would be a relief, especially if The Beings can't follow me…but it would also scare me.

Maybe…just maybe they're some sort of divine punishment. What do you think? Did I somehow make such a mess in some previous life to warrant such torture? No, I don't think so. The Beings are something else…and they've picked me as their target. I still don't understand why.

The sun has gone down…which means that I will have to go to bed soon. I don't want to. Sleep still scares me. I've noticed that my brain's hold on the conscious world has weakened these last few days. Quicker and quicker, it gives up and I'm once again surrounded by The Beings…and that means that I spend more time with them than usual. I saw something interesting last night. The Beings…hundreds of them were gathering into a large crowd, forming the shape of a Being. Somehow they managed to capture the soulless and formless form with perfection. I couldn't help but clap when they did, it was so impressive. They quickly disbanded and surrounded me, hissing and slapping me with their arms. Then I found myself in the asylum again, surrounded by the Beings that pose as orderlies. I find that part of my derangement easiest, because I can just lay down on a gurney and close my eyes. I sleep within my sleep. How is that for déjà vu?

Jack is back, and now he has his white coat on. He's holding some kind needle that he just stabbed my arm with. I'm starting to feel drowsy…but wait, how can I sleep without Stargate? I need it…I confess, I am addicted. It's a comfortable escape from the reality I live in, and now they're taking it away from me?

Where am I anyway? I don't recognize these walls…they're…soft? Like a couch. I like them; it doesn't hurt when I bang my head into them when I see The Beings. Several of them, including Jack, are standing in the doorway to this room which I've never been in before. I try to speak, but not a noise comes out when I open my mouth. I think I'm panicking now; my heart is beating fast again, most likely because I'm now seeing at least five Beings in the door. Three of them are walking away, leaving two of them staring and hissing at me. The door just closed, but I can still see them. My eyes are closing by themselves…I guess this is the end. I've ingested medicine not meant to be taken while under the influence of Beings from the deepest recesses of my mind…this is it, I guess. I hope I've made just a little sense, if only a tiny little bit.

-Andy