[A day or two after being written, the entry is scratched out for fear of Lin's Alter being discovered by those smart enough to connect the dots.]
[Lin doesn't yet realize the journals are a form of communication. He takes it at face value, thinking it's just paper and leather, and decides to do a bit of journaling. Why the hell not?]
Okay, journal, I guess I'll write in you - to sate my own curiosity and, well, utilize you. Someone sent me a journal. I suppose that means I ought to use it, right? (That doesn't carry over, though. Not always. Just because I get something, doesn't mean I have to use it. Like, if someone sent me beef in the mail, ...I'd probably toss it, depending on how hungry I was.)
To be honest, I don't know what this key is for. I mean, I see the connection between it and the kraken in my head, but... as far as I know, I have no keyholes on my head to release him. (RELEASE THE KRAKEN! (Oh, journal, I crack myself up.))
I've never been good at this whole divulging business, even with myself. Forgive me. I have such an overwhelming urge to vomit the entirety of my day and all of its minutia, but then I can't figure out how to get it all down, so I just avoid it all together. You know what I mean? ... Probably not. You are paper. Anxiety does not plague such as you.
Anyway, I guess today was okay. I have lemonade, so that makes it a little better. OK+?