Journal Entry 1:
I can’t pinpoint when it all began, but there’s something off about the world lately. It’s like there’s a whisper in the air, a murmur just beyond my hearing. And then there are the eyes—golden, piercing, following me everywhere I go. They’re not real, I know that. But they’re there, lurking in the shadows, watching my every move. Sometimes, I catch glimpses of them in the reflections of windows or in the patterns of the clouds. It’s unnerving, to say the least. I’ve tried to shake it off, to chalk it up to stress or lack of sleep, but the feeling persists. The golden eyes seem to have a hold on me, drawing me deeper into their mystery with each passing day.
Journal Entry 2:
The eyes won’t leave me alone. They’re like a constant companion, whispering secrets and half-truths into the recesses of my mind. They speak of consequences, of actions leading to inevitable suffering. I try to ignore them, to drown out their voices with music or distractions, but they always find a way back to me. It’s like they know something I don’t, like they’re trying to warn me about a fate I can’t escape. And the worst part is, I’m starting to believe them. Maybe there is some truth to their words, some deeper meaning that I’m missing. Or maybe I’m just losing my mind.
Journal Entry 3:
Days blur together now, each one a hazy repetition of the last. The golden eyes are everywhere, their presence suffocating. I see them in the patterns of the wallpaper, in the flickering of streetlights, even in the faces of strangers passing by. They follow me, taunting me with their silent stares. And the whispers—they’re getting louder, more insistent. They tell me I’m trapped, that my actions have led me to this moment of reckoning. And maybe they’re right. Maybe I’ve brought this upon myself, invited the madness into my life with open arms.
Journal Entry 4:
Sleep is a luxury I can no longer afford. Every time I close my eyes, the golden eyes are there, waiting for me in the darkness. They dance behind my eyelids, mocking me with their silent laughter. I try to fight them, to push them away, but they only grow stronger with each passing night. It’s like they’re consuming me from the inside out, feeding on my fear and desperation. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. The line between reality and madness is blurring, and I’m teetering on the edge.
Journal Entry 5:
I’ve lost myself to the golden eyes. They’ve become my reality, my reason for existing. They tell me I’m a prisoner of my own making, that my actions have sealed my fate. And maybe they’re right. Maybe I deserve whatever punishment awaits me on the other side. But as I sit here, penning these final words, I feel a strange sense of calm wash over me. Maybe this is what I’ve been searching for all along—a release from the pain, the torment, the endless cycle of despair. So I’ll embrace the madness, let it consume me completely. Maybe then, finally, I’ll find the peace I’ve been longing for, this is my last entry.