​my little story that i’m writing 😀

The journal entries of Samuel Robertson

Journal entry 1

My therapist told me I should start a journal. So that’s why I am writing in here. I don’t know why I’m writing like anyone else will read this.

I am Samuel Robertson, a 26-year-old male. I live in the city of Vancouver, British Columbia. My favorite items I own are my $2000 Rolex watch, my DVDs of Starwars, and my favorite item of them all, the book Dune. The year is 2002. I recently had to go on a plane trip to Italy. I last went on a plane in 1998. Airport security increased exponentially after the 9/11 attacks. What I find shocking, is that it changed how airport security is all around the world, not just in America. It was a tragedy that changed how the world worked. No tragedy has changed the world this much ever since the invention of the nuclear bomb, which in its creation caused the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki to be blown up after Pearl Harbor. Each of these tragedies caused many tragic deaths. This journal started out horrible with the topics. I’ll try again tomorrow.

Entry 2

I just got diagnosed with anxiety and stress. My therapist told me I should go into the woods for a week, so here I am at a resort. Its hard for me not to be able to sit down and watch movies on my DVDs. I bought a copy of “American Psycho” right before I went to my weekly therapy sessions. I was going to watch it when I got home, but I just packed my things. Lots of things. I brought a flip phone I got a month back, and a Buck 120 knife for the fishing I’ll be doing. I am going to sign out. I’ll come back tomorrow for another entry.

Entry 3

I caught two fish today. Two rainbow trout. One of my camping neighbors gave me some seasonings he brought. Me and him shared fish and drinks. Apparently, he fought in the Vietnam War. My mental health has gotten worse despite how the day went. I have been very jumpy, and I almost pulled my buck 120 out on someone who gave me another fish. I think it’s time for me to go out and see if I can get a rabbit. The allow people to hunt at the campsite. I brought a pistol with a silencer, so I don’t wake anyone who went to bed early. I’ll tell you how it goes.

Entry 3½

I accidentally shot someone. I am going to pack my things and leave. I put on rubber gloves and took the bullet out. I am going to be honest with you, I’m scared that I’ll do it again. I’ll catch you later. I’ll write another entry in about a week.

Entry 4

I told my therapist. I need to find a new therapist. When he learned about me shooting the innocent man, he began to call 911. I couldn’t go to prison. I grabbed my buck 120 and quickly stabbed his heart. I killed another innocent man. I’m a disgusting monster. I threw out my copy of “American Psycho”. I’m not going to become like Patrick. My Rolex feels heavy, like it’s a burden keeping this secret. I can still feel the warmth of his blood on my hands as I write this. It’s a weight I can’t shake, both emotionally and physically. I was supposed to talk about my fears, about my life spiraling out of control—but instead, I took a life. My life is now a roadmap of blood and shame. How did I end up here?

The moment the knife entered his chest, everything froze. For a second, I thought I could take it all back. But you can’t uncut a wound. I wasn’t ready to be a monster, yet here I am, carrying around my Rolex like a chain, dragging me down as if the weight of time itself has become my prison.

I threw out my copy of “American Psycho” as if it were a cursed object. I don’t want to become like him. I won’t let that part of me surface. But the truth is, I’m terrified that I already have. What if I’m not just a man with struggles but something much darker? I feel untethered, spiraling through a night where the sun might never rise again.

I need to find a place to hide, somewhere far from people and their judgment. I should have left the city a long time ago. But now it’s too late. The walls are closing in, and I can’t trust anyone—least of all myself. Catch you next time.