(Start of Jack's IC Journal - all information is IC and should not be used by other players without knowledge of the journal- Ergo, you wouldn't know this most likely- I plan to post a day by day of Jack's responses to the journal- Character evolution at it's finest)

Well Journal,

You should be pleased to note, that I'm a fuckup. Three steps forward, and fifteen backwards. Sometimes it's not getting up in the morning, it's that gritty moment where you open your eyes and wish you where dead. Right, so in Page 1038B, I broke 10 months of being dry because the woman that I love sort of broke it off with me. Not that it makes much sense. We're from two different worlds, hers is pologamy, evidently, though it would have been very nice to know this before I got into a relationship with her, much less gave her my heart.

Sometimes, Journal, I'm a jackass. Evidently, I've had that sign on the back of my head for a while now. So, got the warehouse refurbished, looks like shit still, but the inside isn't so bad, way too many people living with me, of course, and I'm not sure if that's for their sanity or my own.

I'm trying to dance around the elephant in the room, can't you tell Journal? I don't want to talk about it. It hurts. It hurts like someone killed Hank, and used his bones to dig out my heart, then fed it into little pieces to members of the Black mamba while dancing the Hoola. So, at least I can admit I'm hurting. I guess, the only thing I can do now is pick up the shards of my life, or try too.

She's not even willing to try, and I can't make a relationship with someone who isn't willing to at least try. That's like fucking saranwrap, it might feel good for the first five seconds, then you have a helluva mess later. At this point Journal, I'm so down that I fear for myself, and I wonder if I should be alone.

My brother doesn't answer my calls, Lucas, not Siggy. Siggy is a good lad, he's asleep just down the hall. I could go wake him up but I don't want him to see me like this. Hell there's so many people in this place that it's not funny, but I don't want any of them to see me. Screaming in a crowded room, that's me.

I know it's stupid and unhealthy, but sometimes, I wonder why I even try. You know, I've been fucked over so many times, why do I keep trying? Why do I keep giving my heart away. I don't know why, and I'm tired of trying. I'm sick of being told "your too nice" It's like being told you got an award for being a boy scout when your a kid. I was never a boyscout. Hell, I'm not even a good man, and here they are giving me the "your too nice line"

I could go on for hours about Shade, but right now it hurts too much to even think of her, so let's not. It's what I get for sticking my neck out, for trying. I should have known better, I knew better. No woman wants romance, or flowers, or a man willing to treat them right. They want the assholes with five cunts on the line. Don't mind me, I'm crazy, and Bitter. I guess when it came down to it, that I wasn't good enough for her.

Good enough to fuck but I guess I was what Anjel called me, her stand in for him.
Irks, and hurts, that does. Like a raw wound in the middle of my chest.
So, Doctor Who, a container of ice cream, nuked cheese fries, and a bag of weed.

Maybe I'll write some fanfiction tonight, some mortal drama where Bilbo Baggins falls in love with Thorin Oakenshield, and gets thrown off the top of the wall by an enraged king. You know, the story unedited how it should have been told. Shaw---wing. Romantic tonight, aren't I.

Or maybe a Spock and Kirk Fanfiction, where Spock just let's Kirk go down on the landing party and as soon as they get down there just nerve pinches him right in the neck before dealing with shit. Boom.

Gods, and everything I think of, I end up thinking of her. *licks spoon of icecream* You know, I've been in a polygamous relationship before. There are just some things that I'm not willing to go back too. But the thing is, it's not for me, I've tried it. I know it doesnt' work for me. I can't do it.

For some stupid reason Shade seems to believe that it weakens her to be with a single person.
I don't understand Journal. I don't.

In the short and long of it. I don't matter.
Bitter taste in my mouth now.
I just don't know Journal, what I'm going to do.
It certainly won't be another relationship, and I don't know how I'm going to act when I see her next. I'm so hurt, so incredibly fucking hurt.

All I can do is take it one day at a time and try not to self destruct.
The need is really bad now, and I shot up less than four hours ago, I can't do it again
or I could overdose. I have to keep it to myself or I'll get cornered at work.
Can't let on that I broke. That I'm broken. Not good enough. Never good enough, or in this case. Not bad enough.

See you tomorrow night Journal.