sketches and bloody fingerprints to an empty page near the back.
Maybe by writing something now he could come to some realisations about himself and find a way to internalise some sort of control over his mind. If there were no more memories missing he wouldn’t have any more blackouts right? He takes the pencil but just stares at the blank page. Suddenly his mind was quiet.
After a moment he skips back a few pages to read more of the entries from a few days back. Perhaps writing would come later, there was still a lot to relearn and hopefully something in here would spark a memory, or at least some helpful dreams. He stops at an entry from one month ago:
Most of your frustrations are brought about by your own personal