[Del]'s Diary

ENTRY ONE (TRANSCRIPTION OF JOURNAL)

How do I know how to speak my mind if I’m brand spanking new? This is my first day. The first one I remember. I must have been taught somehow. To speak and to write that is. Perhaps, I was programmed. With language at least.

They’ve inputted me with very little else — about myself, who I am, where I am or how I got here. I do not question why I am here. I already know: I deserve to be here. In this room. This prison. (Marginalia: purgatorium)

Or at least the room deserves me. If only I knew what wrong it was I have committed. (Marginalia: rape and pillage, let’s storm the village)

I must have existed before now, before day one. I’m fully grown.

And there’s the other writing, the chicken scrawls, that came before this — over how many days — who knows. Those days are from before “me” though, so I will designate them as from day 0. (Marginalia: “Ego Dominus, et non est amplius; extra me non est deus”)

But I must have written them. All except LOGOS. I feel, somehow, that I did not write that. That Logos was there before. Had always been there before.

I like being only one day old. It has shed years off my skin.

But like most babes, all I ever do is sleep. And I’m already tired. Each word is a struggle.