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Hello. My name is Anya Musume, and this is really my first time writing in a journal like this.
I have no idea what I'm doing. I figured, since we're all going to be on this ship for a while, I might as well write down my thoughts and feelings to keep from going crazy.
The ship crashed not too long ago, and Curly is in horrible condition.
However, I feel a sense of guilt for keeping him alive like this.
There's no way he wants to live like this anymore.
There's no way he wants to live anymore.
And I see him.
I understand his pain.
I understand the feeling of incoherence — the struggle to speak, to voice your feelings.
For him, it's more of a physical block.
For me, I think it's a weak mental state.
And both are truly detrimental.
Most days, I wake up with a primal anger — a feeling of violation and dejection.
Nowhere to channel it. No one to put it on.
Even though... there is someone.
There really is.
I don't even care if I make it back home anymore. I don't care. About any of it.
I just hope Daisuke makes it out okay.
He's such a sweet kid. I never really found him annoying like the others do— just... easily influenced.
And I think that might be because of his constant need for approval. For acknowledgement.
And in that way, I think he's the most relatable.
I just wish to be seen.
To be listened to.
To be... believed.
Anyway, I'm going to give Curly his meds.
I need to power through it this time.
I can't throw up like last time.
Anya Musume, Medic.