Journal Entry
Date: Unknown

I'm pretty sure nobody is going to find this, let alone read it, but I've been walking for what my watch says is days (Although I have a suspicion that this place messes with clocks - I'll walk a hundred paces and it'll say ten minutes have passed, I'll walk for a few miles and it'll say about fifteen minutes have passed. I'll stop to take a breath, and a half hour will have passed and I honestly am just considering throwing the watch away because this fucked up enough without time distortion being involved) and I need to get this out. I want to say "I don't know where to start", but I guess I'll just start from the begining.

I don't remember anything before I supposedly woke up four days ago. Only a faint sense of being torn away from some kind of fabric, a great weave that I was a thread of. I remember a void so black it seemed to consume; something primordial and vulgar and empty... a vacuum without end. It was like I was floating, and the emptiness was so empty I could feel it... yawning like an ancient god, tired and vengeful and hungry. I was floating in that silent, sterile blackness for so long. I don't really remember how I got here, only that after what seemed like an eon, I blinked, and that tearing, ripping, breaking feeling happened and I was here.
Where is here?

I don't know.

But I know what it looks like. Grey. Really fucking grey.

I woke up to this place. An ashen plain, grey packed dirt, hard and dead reaching out for as far as I can see. There is very little variation, only a deep ash color, like a volcano erupted and the ashes were pounded into a hard, flat plane, corpse cold and dry like a mummies flesh. I know at least that nothing grows here, or at least not currently.
I sat for awhile, reluctant to move, confused and very much in a panic. Do you know what it's like to wake up in the middle of an empty wasteland, alone with no memory of who you are, or even what your name is? I don't remember what my name is! I remember what a name is, I remember having a name, just not what it is. I've been trying to figure it out for a long time now, and I think it might be something like Aiden, or Ivan, or Erin, or something. Two syllables, at least I know. Other than that... nothing. I'm nothing and I have nothing but this feeling. You know, journal, I thought "lets be rational about this" when I first awoke?! How do you rationalize this?!

I've decided that you can't, and that I'm just going to go with The Feeling.

I call it The Feeling because in my melancholy, in my despair, I had this feeling. Just as I reached the breaking point, just before the first tear came, something deep within me moved me to walk. No specific direction, no specific aim. Just walk. I can feel The Feeling if I idle for too long, so I try not to. I've walked and walked and walked for what my oh-so-trusty watch claimed was about two days. The light did not change at any point, and there is no visible sun to mark the passage of time. To be completely honest, journal, it could have been one day or three and I wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. Regardless, I know at some point something did grow here, although not very well, and it looks like it was a billion years ago.
It looks like a tiny fossilized forest, a copse of ancient, scraggly grey plants reached pitifully towards the sky, as if it's cold stony greyness could somehow sustain them. They were like skeletal fingers, stunted and gnarled, thin and gnobby and grabby. No foliage, no sign of life in them... just a tableau of greedy agony, reaching pathetically towards an empty sky for a sun that isn't there, stark bone white against the deep ashen ground and the frozen sky.There were five of them, and I spent a long time looking at them. And then, The Feeling.
So I kept walking. Other then the ground, the sky, those trees, and the infinite void that came before, I only have faint impressions, flickers of colors and ideas... I remember some faces, some names. I remember eating... flashes of memories occasionally surface still. Forests, sunsets, hell... remembering the sun at all seems extraordinary. There is so little here to look at, I find myself constantly turning inward trying to glimpse those precious drops of light and color, sound and taste.
Another interesting quality... I feel no need to eat or drink. No hunger, no thirst. No excretion, no intake.  I'm am starting to wonder about this, but I do remember that these things are vital. I guess here, there is no living to sustain, so sustenance isn't necessary. I have a lot of pages in this journal, which I found in my pants pocket, along with several pens and some lint. Other than that, I am wearing a faded T-shirt that seems to be unnaturally faded, as if I have been wearing it for a thousand years (and I very well may have, who the hell knows anymore. Who could even be the who in question? I'm pretty sure it's just me out here!!) Iron Maiden is printed in what might have been red centuries ago, but has since faded to the point of black. So much for a hint of color.  Black T-Shirt, Black Pants. At least I match, haha. I match with myself, I match with that black infinity I was spat out of, and I match with the dismal grey of this sad, cold world I've found myself in. I guess I don't have much to keep me going, do I? Haha... well...
I guess I'll keep walking then. Before The Feeling sets in. It kind of hurts if you don't obey.

Next time I can't stand to think inward I'll write again. I have a lot of pages, and a lot of grey. A lot of fucking grey. Time and grey and pages and ink and me.

I don't expect much to change.

I'll update when I can't stand to think at myself anymore. Till then, I'm going to walk.