((Forgive me for being all over the place with this... First entry in his journal and he has so many things to say that I doesn't even know where to start.. Neither do I, really.))

Jace sat alone in his apartment, staring at the empty crib off to the side of his bedroom, with the wooden rocking horse next to it. Flashbacks of when Rosen was there with him, sitting on that same rocking horse giggling like crazy and making small bouncing motions out of excitement, flooded into his brain. Along with flashbacks of when Voltiel was pregnant with her... Followed by anger.. Anger from her being taken away from him. He still didn't know who took her, but he figured it was Voltiel herself who did it. He stared down at the new journal book while he sat in his bed, a joint hanging from his lips. He occasionally puffed on it, tilting his head back as smoke rolled out from his mouth when he exhaled. Being high was something that calmed him.. Made him feel less of a monster.. Made him feel like he could think a lot more clear. He pressed the pen down against the paper and began to write...

Well... someone told me to try doing this... that it would maybe help some of my anger problems. I really don't see it helping me at all... and probably just embarrassing me more in the long run if someone finds this fucking book. Ohwell.

I'm tired... emotionally tired. I feel like I can't do anything right anymore. I wish I could go back in time before I decided to move to hathian, and instead of deciding to take the risk of living here, to go somewhere else. I have met a lot of people while living here.. but I can honestly say that none of them are people that I would go out of my way for. Everyone that I have ever met, has stabbed me in the back one way or another. The mind games, the lying, cheating, people who are completely two faced, and the ones that try to be best friends with me and turn around and do something that they know would cause me to lose every ounce of trust I had in them. What they don't know half the time, is just how difficult it is for me to gain trust back in people. I feel pathetic, because I spend most of my time alone. I used to be a guy who loved going out to parties, strip clubs, out drinking with random people.. All of that.. But nowdays, I refuse to leave my apartment unless I know exactly who all is going to be there. I feel like I cannot trust anyone in this fucking city, and it is emotionally draining.

I don't like the person that I've become. For the longest time, I had people trying to convince me that I was some sort of monster. I bounced back and fourth between denying that I was and admitting that I was a monster. I believe them now. I know I am a monster. I'm a rapist.. A drug addict.. I get off on watching people suffer, and i don't even care about hiding it anymore. I'll straight up tell anyone who fucking asks. I've lost a good 50 pounds from doing drugs... I don't look the same anymore. I don't think the same way anymore... and I sure the fuck don't have any hope like I used to. Out of everything that I could possibly die from in hathian... I am convinced that one day, I will end up killing myself from drugs. Whether it be purposely overdosing, or on accident.. I really do think that's how i'll die. The drug use has gotten out of control. I feel like I have no self control anymore...

Jace put the pen down for a moment, staring down at the paper he was writing on for a few moments before lifting his attention across the room, where he had his heroin laying out on the top of his dresser. He never really had people over, so he wasn't as afraid of people seeing what all he had in his place. He stood up slowly, placing the journal and pen onto his bed. He walked across the room, staring down at the heroin he had. Next to that, he had a large bag of weed, meth, and a large amount of cocaine. He constantly felt like a kid in a candy store, anxiously trying to pick what they wanted as fast as they could before their parents grew too frustrated to wait anymore. Except jace had nobody to watch over him, Nobody to stand there and tell him he shouldn't do it. Even when he did have people tell him he needed to quit doing drugs, it only made him want to do it even more. He picked up the plate he had his cocaine setup on, bringing it over to the bed with him. He placed some of the snow onto the surface, using an old credit card to chop it up into fine pieces, into a line. He stared at it for a few moments before lowering his head down, one of his fingers pressing against one side of his nose while the other one heavily sniffed, inhaling the cocaine. He coughed a few times, his eyes instantly beginning to water and turn red. He blinked a few times and gave a quick shake of his head. He set it a little further away from him on the bed and picked up the journal to start writing again.

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be clean again.. If I will ever be able to settle down and find someone to be with for the rest of my life. I wish I could have rosen back... but another part of me hopes that I don't. I can't have her being raised by me... A drug addict.. I could never stand to see her growing up to follow right down the same path as me. I feel like this whole journal thing is a fucking joke, and that taking about drugs and rape just make me want to do both of those things even more. I'm not even making any fucking sense anymore haha.

Maybe by me writing in this thing more often... Whoever finds me when I'm dead will come across this journal, and maybe learn a thing or two about me. Even though it'll be too late and i'll be gone.. Why the fuck am I talking like this? Now I'm asking myself questions. I can't focus.. so.. I think I'm done now? Wow, I am not good at this at all.