Timeless.

Personal Journal of Harold Elijah Less, Private in the Militia Enforcement

Bookfour.

Dayonetwentyfive, the days are drifting together. They were once separate but are now one. It's no longer Twenty four, seven. It's Now Twentyfourseven, Onesixtyeight. Things aren't looking the same either. They don't smell or taste like they used to. I just am, but nothing seems to want to be.

Dayonetwentyseven, and I don't know what time. It's light out but I can't remember if it has been for some time. When you have no one to rest for, nothing to rest for it's as if you don't need to anymore. I don't go out at night anymore. It's not safe anymore. Ever since Noah didn't return I was left to fend for my self. I search for scraps when I remember I'm supposed to eat. This occurs when I lose hours of my day, but know I haven't slept. Where do they go? Where did everyone go?

Dayonethirty, I think. I remembered. I was reminded what it was like to be with another. They were warm to the touch. Soft, mostly. This won't last long.

Dayonethrityfive, I know I'm writing. I know their watching. I'm not safe. I'm in hourfiftyfour/houronesixtyeight since my last blac--

Dayonetwentynine, I've gone back. That's where I go. I don't know how I know; I just know I've gone back. It's not the first time. That's why I am no longer able to maintain a sleep regiment. Sleep is for those that wake in the future. Sleep is everyone's personal time machine. My mind is mine.

Dayonethirtyseven, Where have I been, I wish I knew. Honestly. If only I knew where I was, I could find out were I've been all this time and why I'm here. I miss the feeling. Any feeling really even pain. I can't feel anything and I miss that.

Dayonefourty, I haven't seen it. It's been missing since that entry. I can't think straight, not anymore. There's a link, someone is in my thoughts. I'm alone and I'm being watched, but I AM alone.

Daytwelve, Listen me. I'm here. I'm with you. Wake up! It's not to late to escape. Jude can be saved. As well as Noah. You just have to break away. You control the scope of things. Take yourself away, bring yourself back. Look back. Don't log blindly, look at what you write. Look at what I write. There is no sequence. They make there be no sequence. I feel you taking hold. Look back! Loo--

Dayonefortyone. I don't think I belong here.

End Journal, Bookfour

Up somewhere

My plans feel through today and I made the most of it. I didn't get to hang out with someone I wanted to, but my defaults are always there. I love my core of friends. Happy all parts are back together.We watched Alien today. Alien was, well it was made in 1979 and Sigourney Weaver has not aged since. I think she's a ... dun, dun, dun, ALIEN!

I don't have much to say, I'm in a good mood, wish I had the opportunity to cheer others up. And also, Avatar was good. Not AMAZING! It was however enjoyable. Same with Sherlock Holmes. I want to see "Up in the Air."

Addiction

Addiction

Here is a particular tale, of a man in love. A genre writhing with experience yes. This love story is however a compilation. A tale of a man. No scratch that, a boy. A boy in love with not one, but man that becomes a man who is unable to his true love. His charm, is a charm that’s irresistible, a whit that is unmatched. He keeps companionship often, but finds true love never. It is because when someone loves almost anyone, how is he to find the one that is meant to be.

Ever since a young age, an attraction to the opposite sex was present. From love notes to puppy love he had the pick of the litter. As he grew so did his willingness to indulge his romantic tendencies. However, as he began to flourish, his heart began to wonder. Faithful in body, he was absent in mind. A single girl was unable to obtain his attention, not as if he was unwilling to bestow it upon them. In his time of passion he was in full blown love. In time of solitude he was in constant discontent. In search of his next, but not likely his last companion.

Through his youth, he was unsatisfied. Whether they be play dates in his childhood or a casual get-together in his adulthood, he was unsatisfied. With each love and there in loss of said love, came an even greater disappointment. It not being “the love” of his life, rather “a love” of his life took a toll on his heart. By the half point in his life he had fallen in and out of love to often to recall, but he knew his love would always remain. In hopes of saving his heart from additional torment he attempted to maintain a simple life, showing no sign of feelings. He however could not fight who he was.

After years of trying his chance at love he finally tried his chance at life, but a life without love, left him empty. He wanted a wife, he wanted kids, and he wanted a family. But life had passed him by and those he did love knew how special they were. He had not gained the family he wanted, but he did warrant the love he desired. In his passing came a remembrance from those he once loved, those he truly, always did love. He could not stop the passing of his life just as he could not stop the love he had created. He lived, in spite of his best attempts, in a constant state of love, just as he will be remembered.