The diary of Mr Stevens
17th October
Decided I should start writing this to get my thoughts together. Just... ugh. It's going to be tough. Moved all my stuff into the new place, and I've pretty much severed all ties. It's official. Didn't have much of a choice, did I? God, when I think about it... but never mind. Can't dwell on it right now. Need to unpack. This room is too small, I'll never fit everything in. Still, at least it was cheap. I need to start job hunting right away.
18th October
Rubbish day. Terrible. This is exactly what I was hoping I'd got away from. It's been raining for hours. No luck finding jobs, no luck unpacking. The room is a mess, it's depressing. I was looking and there are bits of string tied to the ceiling which is just bizarre. Looks like it's beans for dinner. Fantastic. I don't know anyone. I think I've forgotten how. Maybe I never did.
22nd October
I can't find a job. I don't know how to apply for something when there's nothing I want to do. It's not like I even enjoyed it back there. I thought there was supposed to be a perfect job for everyone, but there just isn't. Even just looking at the adverts fills me with lethargy and revulsion. What am I supposed to do to fit in?
28th October
Depressed. I thought if there was one positive thing to come out of the move it would be the chance to start again. Instead I've just stopped. I know every inch of this room. I know every string. Would have taken them down but they just look right... christ I need to get out. Tomorrow I'll look at the classifieds again.
31st October
I need to go out and do something. I know I need to, but I can't. I don't know whether it's inertia or what, but I just know it's no good. It doesn't matter how important it is, or how much I know I should do it. I'm trapped, locked into this path I'm taking and I can't get myself out of it, not alone. But there's nobody else to help me. I don't know what to do.
4th November
Strange dream last night. There's a mirror in my room, and I dreamt it was moving. At least, I thought it was moving. Everything was dark and rusty. I got out of bed and wandered through corridors, but every room led back to the start. It's difficult to describe. Couldn't get back to sleep, either. Full moon and I've got no curtains. True. The room was dirt cheap. Can't afford curtains so I put newspapers in the window. Slept better after that.
5th November
I tried to call the landlord about the windows, but there was no reply. I think he's out of the country. He showed precious little interest when I moved in, anyway. Nor did the neighbours. I've hardly even seen any of them. A few days ago I passed a woman in the corridor, and tried to say something, but I couldn't. She was staring at me with open hostility. I haven't seen her or anyone else since.
6th November
Same dream again. Mirror was dark and red. I was hiding from it. Felt like I was being watched. Covered with this feeling of dread, even for ten minutes after I woke up. I need more newspaper for the window. I need money. Every meal tastes the same. I hate going out. I swear people are looking at me. They know. I hate staying in just as much. I need to call somebody.
9th November
Standing in the queue at the shop today, I felt like I was about to cry, or scream, or something. How can those people not see what is wrong with me? None of them would even look. They can't see, or they won't let themselves see. Or they know, but they don't care, and they prefer to just look away.
10th November
Is it normal to be afraid of your own reflection? I don't know what's normal any more. I look at myself in the dark and I see a void. I can't look away. I know there's something wrong with me, but I don't know what to do about it.
13th November
The streets are full of people, and none of them want to look at me. But I know they see me, from the corner of their eyes. And I know what they see. I know what they think of me, and the worst part of it is that they're right.
15th November
I'm scared. I'm scared of the dark, but it's more than that. Light doesn't help. The darkness is in my mind. It's advancing. I keep almost seeing things - in the corner of my eye, when I turn around. In the mirror. Trying to keep awake but it's difficult. I can't feel anything. I swear it's watching me. They're watching me. There's no way out now that they know. There's no way.
16th November
Think I'm in hell. Think I'm not here. Think therefore I'm not. It's been weeks and months and I can feel it. Maybe it always was. I'm not here any more. I have no soul. Automaton. They took me. Now I'm trapped and the only way out is to send them. If I send enough then I get a share. I might get I must get a share. I work for them now. I work. I like it. I serve. Not I. It serves. It will continue to write because it amuses them. No soul to kill. Unstoppable. A third age is come. No soul. It serves.
4th December
First one today. Girl at a bus stop. Nobody else there. Nobody saw. When the knife went in for a moment I felt alive and I almost felt as though I existed but it soon passed it soon ended. It doesn't matter though. This proves it. It's the only way. Blood on clothes but it's just another stain. Sometimes food falls on there and things but it is not important. Nobody looks at me any more. People are stupid. They will lose in the end.
11th December
It is more difficult to remain balanced, but put one foot in front of the other and moving forwards is inevitable. The neighbour woman was staring with pity in her eyes, but her pity is wasted. It will be necessary to do it again soon, for balance.
16th December
Today it was a shopkeeper. This is good as money is needed to keep the body working. Late night and an empty shop, so went over the counter and I destroyed him and kept going until he had stopped altogether and opened him and this is good because I have started to notice this when they are gone. They become a door. Through there I can see the future. This is as it should be but it never lasts. Took the money and left.
20th December
They have assigned a social worker. Inconvenient. Attempts to make appropriate impression but the body is not good at imitating the mind. She made comments on its appearance and behaviour. Something must be done when the moment is right.
25th December
Social worker brought turkey dinner. All food is chemicals and tastes of nothing. "How do you like your dinner, Mr Stevens?" she asked. Tried to express gratitude. Difficult to talk without repeating the messages from the mirror which she must not hear. There is not much time. The necessary tools have been obtained. She should not have come here today. She has revealed her weakness.
26th December
Went to her house. Followed her last night. "Hello, Mr Stevens" she said at the door. "What brings you here?" She could not see the tools. "Are you all right, Mr Stevens?" Obliterated her and her skull and screeched joy because every time it works better and I can feel again and I know and soon I will have enough and I will be accepted and the souls will free me. The feeling passes but it is not important. There is work to be done.
31st December
Messages from the mirror. IT IS A FOOLISH PUPPET. THE THOUGHT OF ESCAPE COMFORTS IT. THIS AMUSES THEM. IT WILL TRY ITS BEST BUT IT IS DOOMED TO OBLIVION LIKE THE REST OF THEM. UNTIL THEN THERE IS TIME. THE KILLING TIME. THE DAMNED LAUGH. WEEP TEARS OF BLOOD. Don't know what it means. BECAUSE YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD.
5th January
There is work to be done.
(Written in 2004; some bits added in 2006.)
Decided I should start writing this to get my thoughts together. Just... ugh. It's going to be tough. Moved all my stuff into the new place, and I've pretty much severed all ties. It's official. Didn't have much of a choice, did I? God, when I think about it... but never mind. Can't dwell on it right now. Need to unpack. This room is too small, I'll never fit everything in. Still, at least it was cheap. I need to start job hunting right away.
18th October
Rubbish day. Terrible. This is exactly what I was hoping I'd got away from. It's been raining for hours. No luck finding jobs, no luck unpacking. The room is a mess, it's depressing. I was looking and there are bits of string tied to the ceiling which is just bizarre. Looks like it's beans for dinner. Fantastic. I don't know anyone. I think I've forgotten how. Maybe I never did.
22nd October
I can't find a job. I don't know how to apply for something when there's nothing I want to do. It's not like I even enjoyed it back there. I thought there was supposed to be a perfect job for everyone, but there just isn't. Even just looking at the adverts fills me with lethargy and revulsion. What am I supposed to do to fit in?
28th October
Depressed. I thought if there was one positive thing to come out of the move it would be the chance to start again. Instead I've just stopped. I know every inch of this room. I know every string. Would have taken them down but they just look right... christ I need to get out. Tomorrow I'll look at the classifieds again.
31st October
I need to go out and do something. I know I need to, but I can't. I don't know whether it's inertia or what, but I just know it's no good. It doesn't matter how important it is, or how much I know I should do it. I'm trapped, locked into this path I'm taking and I can't get myself out of it, not alone. But there's nobody else to help me. I don't know what to do.
4th November
Strange dream last night. There's a mirror in my room, and I dreamt it was moving. At least, I thought it was moving. Everything was dark and rusty. I got out of bed and wandered through corridors, but every room led back to the start. It's difficult to describe. Couldn't get back to sleep, either. Full moon and I've got no curtains. True. The room was dirt cheap. Can't afford curtains so I put newspapers in the window. Slept better after that.
5th November
I tried to call the landlord about the windows, but there was no reply. I think he's out of the country. He showed precious little interest when I moved in, anyway. Nor did the neighbours. I've hardly even seen any of them. A few days ago I passed a woman in the corridor, and tried to say something, but I couldn't. She was staring at me with open hostility. I haven't seen her or anyone else since.
6th November
Same dream again. Mirror was dark and red. I was hiding from it. Felt like I was being watched. Covered with this feeling of dread, even for ten minutes after I woke up. I need more newspaper for the window. I need money. Every meal tastes the same. I hate going out. I swear people are looking at me. They know. I hate staying in just as much. I need to call somebody.
9th November
Standing in the queue at the shop today, I felt like I was about to cry, or scream, or something. How can those people not see what is wrong with me? None of them would even look. They can't see, or they won't let themselves see. Or they know, but they don't care, and they prefer to just look away.
10th November
Is it normal to be afraid of your own reflection? I don't know what's normal any more. I look at myself in the dark and I see a void. I can't look away. I know there's something wrong with me, but I don't know what to do about it.
13th November
The streets are full of people, and none of them want to look at me. But I know they see me, from the corner of their eyes. And I know what they see. I know what they think of me, and the worst part of it is that they're right.
15th November
I'm scared. I'm scared of the dark, but it's more than that. Light doesn't help. The darkness is in my mind. It's advancing. I keep almost seeing things - in the corner of my eye, when I turn around. In the mirror. Trying to keep awake but it's difficult. I can't feel anything. I swear it's watching me. They're watching me. There's no way out now that they know. There's no way.
16th November
Think I'm in hell. Think I'm not here. Think therefore I'm not. It's been weeks and months and I can feel it. Maybe it always was. I'm not here any more. I have no soul. Automaton. They took me. Now I'm trapped and the only way out is to send them. If I send enough then I get a share. I might get I must get a share. I work for them now. I work. I like it. I serve. Not I. It serves. It will continue to write because it amuses them. No soul to kill. Unstoppable. A third age is come. No soul. It serves.
4th December
First one today. Girl at a bus stop. Nobody else there. Nobody saw. When the knife went in for a moment I felt alive and I almost felt as though I existed but it soon passed it soon ended. It doesn't matter though. This proves it. It's the only way. Blood on clothes but it's just another stain. Sometimes food falls on there and things but it is not important. Nobody looks at me any more. People are stupid. They will lose in the end.
11th December
It is more difficult to remain balanced, but put one foot in front of the other and moving forwards is inevitable. The neighbour woman was staring with pity in her eyes, but her pity is wasted. It will be necessary to do it again soon, for balance.
16th December
Today it was a shopkeeper. This is good as money is needed to keep the body working. Late night and an empty shop, so went over the counter and I destroyed him and kept going until he had stopped altogether and opened him and this is good because I have started to notice this when they are gone. They become a door. Through there I can see the future. This is as it should be but it never lasts. Took the money and left.
20th December
They have assigned a social worker. Inconvenient. Attempts to make appropriate impression but the body is not good at imitating the mind. She made comments on its appearance and behaviour. Something must be done when the moment is right.
25th December
Social worker brought turkey dinner. All food is chemicals and tastes of nothing. "How do you like your dinner, Mr Stevens?" she asked. Tried to express gratitude. Difficult to talk without repeating the messages from the mirror which she must not hear. There is not much time. The necessary tools have been obtained. She should not have come here today. She has revealed her weakness.
26th December
Went to her house. Followed her last night. "Hello, Mr Stevens" she said at the door. "What brings you here?" She could not see the tools. "Are you all right, Mr Stevens?" Obliterated her and her skull and screeched joy because every time it works better and I can feel again and I know and soon I will have enough and I will be accepted and the souls will free me. The feeling passes but it is not important. There is work to be done.
31st December
Messages from the mirror. IT IS A FOOLISH PUPPET. THE THOUGHT OF ESCAPE COMFORTS IT. THIS AMUSES THEM. IT WILL TRY ITS BEST BUT IT IS DOOMED TO OBLIVION LIKE THE REST OF THEM. UNTIL THEN THERE IS TIME. THE KILLING TIME. THE DAMNED LAUGH. WEEP TEARS OF BLOOD. Don't know what it means. BECAUSE YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD.
5th January
There is work to be done.
(Written in 2004; some bits added in 2006.)
posted by Solid Jim at 1:11 AM
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