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