“I was told to write something scary. If I do that, It will let me live. The sun didn't rise today. It hasn't risen for many days. The room is dark, except light from the outside. And I feel It breathing.”

“They made me promise not to write about it, but I can't keep silent anymore. The longer I let this sit inside me, the worse it becomes, and the more the pain returns. It is never as bad as the first time, but that is the point…”

“This is coming sooner than I expected, and maybe that is for the best. I have tried to wait, tried to make all the pieces fit before I decide to move, but I think there is an ending coming, and I don't think I have any time to waste.”

“The world is breaking, in physical ways that most people struggle to see. The sun is gasping and the world is rotting, and if I had just been stronger than maybe it wouldn't have turned out this way.”

“…I opened up the old building, the smell of mildew and old wood hitting me as I stepped inside. It is so strange to go into work now. In a lot of ways this museum has become a part of me, and so when I step inside it is less like going to work and more like going to my home. Even if it isn't.”