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Journal Entry #1

I’ve never written in a journal before. I don’t quite know where to begin. Maybe this is good enough. Sorry journal, but you’re going to have to deal with it. Here’s to our new relationship going forward.

I didn’t indent. Should I have indented? I can’t be asked to start again, I’ll just waste another hour thinking of the first word I should put, just to put something stupid again. It’s not like this is for school. Not that I ever took my English classes seriously. This is just for me. Nobody is ever going to read this. Who cares if you make spelling or grammar mistakes, or change from first person to second person. Yeah that’s beter.

That’s a lot of page wasted writing absolutely nothing of note. I’m sorry to all the trees that were harmed in the making of this journal.

I was told to start making journal entries to help sort my thoughts out better. Just write about how my day went and any thoughts I have or had.

I woke up slightly earlier than usual. There was no reason to be up but I wasn’t sleepy so I scrolled on youtube for a bit. Too bad my recommended is awful. Then I woke up for real and had cereal for breakfast. I’m going to keep this to myself, but I poured milk before cereal first. War crime, I know.

Then I went to class. I had calc in the morning. Stupid class, but it's required for my degree. There’s so many goddam chain rules. I feel like whoever made calculus is laughing at me from their grave. I was too nervous to ask the prof to repeat himself so I ended up pretending to work on the example questions.

This is embarrasing. I’m going to cringe so hard if I ever reread this in the future. What if someoen accidentally found this and read it? What if someone IS reading it as I write it?

Just think about it. A character in a story doesn’t know that they are a character in a story. TO them, their story is all that is real. Even if they suspect that they aren’t real, it’s because they are written to do. There’s nothing they can actually do about it. But what if that’s the case for real life for us? I don’t have any proof that I am real. It is possible that I am being made to write this as part of a story, and so others will read it as well and laugh at my stupidity. It kinda makes me feel weird when i think about it. But I know there’s no point taking it seriously because it isn’t something that can be proved or disproved, so thinking about it is simply a waste of time and sanity. But what if I’m being made to think this way as well? See the problem?

Actually, I’m surprised that there isn’t some grand philosophical theory about this. I was sure some Ancient Greek would have said something like this already. I guess there’s simulation theory? But that’s not really the same thing. I’m gonna call it the Recursive Story Theory. No that sounds clunky. Infinite Story Dimensions, N-th Dimensional Story Theory, Infinite Onion Peel Theory. I think I might like that one. No matter how many layers of reality you peel away, there is always another one hiding. We are all a story in a story. But it also sounds silly enough to not take too seriously.

INFINITE ONION PEEL THEORY ✓

I’m going to run out of space on this page soon. I don’t want my very first journal entry to be that long. This was supposed to be a warmup to get used to this. Skipping most of my day, only focusing on important bits.

Robert and I went to eat at the food poisoning restaurant on campus to test the rumours. I survived, but Robert fell victim to the dastardly internal wounds inflicted by the high attack power of raw chicken. His last words (may he rest in piss) were that this was the worst story ever made, and that he was going to curse his authors for writing him off as the token clown character punching bag of the story.

While he was busy with the unholy process of bribing Charon at the River Styx to reshedule his death, I thought more about this concept and it somewhat unsettled me. Like, it could explain how I sometimes get random thoughts and urges that don’t logically follow from anything. King Robert the great finally descended from the throne and I told him about this, and he looked me as if I had grown another head (was that the correct saying).

He then suggested getting a journal to sort my thoughts because I seemed confused by myself. I suppose even the most foolish of King’s impart useful wisdom sometimes. Reading it now, it really does feel silly. Other than that, I also met up with NVM OUT OF SPACE