Dear Soul, So then what happens next? I awoke several times last night unable to sleep. Once I was in “the zone” (as I like to call it) gun shots rang out. I think six; although I cannot be too sure, of course the mother just shook her head when I tild her as if I had made it up in spite of her. This makes me wonder what that man did to deserve such a blood chilling death. I know it was a man because a shrill voice of a young woman screamed “Papa!”
Trully, he could only be a horrid man, who spends his days in the midst of inequity, so is his death rightous? I tried to remind myself of my own mortality by writing in pencil, to let my mind reveal it’s true nature in human nature. Is it possible that God will punish a child for going behind his mother’s back and stealing a piece of five cent candy? In His own justice He will comdemn into eternal suffering for te innocent act of not knowing any better, and only following his mother’s example of rapicity. I stared hard at the crucifix on my wall. The mother hung it opposite my bed bed in hope of me finding faith, and so over time I’ve grown to hate it. Maybe because it’s so old that at night I could swear that it radiates a shade of green. Or maybe it holds a sense of falsitity that I cannot fathom. It seems to be quite disturbing to my guest and sometines even myself though its supposd virture has apparently saved most people. He has watched me throughout the years watching Him, trying to understand if there is a method behind His maddness, and trying to keep time in his tragic ballet.