Chapter Text
September 16, 2008
So...hi, I guess. I don't really know how this is supposed to work, but Sam tells me that all I gotta do is write from the heart. So here goes nothin'. Name's Dean Winchester and I have the crappiest life in the world. Don't get me wrong, though. As crappy as my life can get, it can have its awesome moments. Been travelling on the road with my giant of a brother for I don't know how many years. We hunt things for a living. No, no, not like Bambi or ducks ala Duck Dynasty, nothing like that. We hunt monsters. Yeah, Dracula, wicked witches, demons, that kinda stuff, stuff that people could only dream of seeing. You might even say that I'ma total badass at what I do, but as hard a job as it sounds, the hunter life comes with a few perks of its own. No curfews, no one telling you what to do, multiple identities, and all the stolen money you could ask for. Yeah, I guess you could say it beats sitting in a tiny cubicle for a day, but hunting's not for the feint of heart. You never know when you might kick the bucket, so it's better to live life to the fullest while you still can. I don't see how this is supposed to help me. Sam says it's supposed to be cathartic, whatever that means, but I guess that I could keep writing in this journal-even for a few days. That seems to be it. Oh, Sam's calling me. Gotta run.