[There was a photo attached. There was two pages that were lit by a dim lamp. The first page was labeled number 437 with a question mark on it. The writing seemed frenzied and was difficult to make out the words as they jumped on the page ] 'I felt blood from above me. That made no sense and when I checked again. There had been none to begin with. One of my traps went off by accident and I had to bandage the wound. It almost made feel alive. I understand that I have been told it is fine to show that I enjoy pain. It is embarrassing to admit the whys. Everything is moving slowly as it does. I feel concern at it all goes on. I wish to do more. I should talk to my friends more as well but they likely just despise me. They must despise me for all of my faults. Every single one of them is too clear and I do not understand why they tolerated me in the first place. My writing is full of lackster prose. The dreams are wearing on me less. Minus the random attack where I can not breathe. All is well. I should have been a better matesprit. I know that my matesprit is struggling and I don't know how to help. I can't even help myself which is laughable. If I was born to bare the weight of what it demands of my blood. I should be able to do what it demands without this self pity. My vision went blank recently as well. I can not tell the cause. It overlapped with one of the horrible dreams about someone truly pitiful. Of what little I can gather about humans. I learned of entities known as the Fates. It feels oddly comforting to hear about such things. Present in many cultures and all yet different in their own ways. It makes me feel better about what I see for the future. Notes to self; Find out how to stop nervous habits Check on others that I worry about Attempt to forc--' [The last task was scratched out. There was amended tasks as well ink spills over the pages.] 'Attempt to be social and likeable. Put in more effort into starting stories and finishing Bring notes when chest is tight in public to write The flesh is easy to command and yet the mind is cruel. Do not let it win.'