-24th Rest?-

I’ve neglected these journal entries for the last few rests, a mistake I can’t afford. This journal is my only means of keeping track of time, my only tether to some semblance of reality. Now, I’m no longer sure how much time has passed. Has it been three rests? More? Less? The uncertainty gnaws at me.

This lapse is either my own failing—an oversight born of exhaustion—or, worse, the graying slowly chipping away at my mind. I can feel it creeping in, clouding my thoughts and making it harder to hold on to anything concrete. The confusion is starting to blur not just the world around me, but my sense of time, of self. This journal, once my anchor, is slipping from my grasp, and I fear what will happen if I lose track of it completely.

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I’ve decided that once I stop to set up camp again, I’ll go through my journal carefully, page by page. I need to reground myself, to piece together what’s been happening—both in this place and in my mind. These entries may be fragmented, but they are the only record of my thoughts and experiences, the only way to hold on to who I am before the graying takes everything.

The words I’ve written might help me make sense of things—a reminder that there was a time when I could think clearly when I knew what was real and what was not. If nothing else, perhaps they’ll help me remember that this nightmare has a start... and, I hope, an end.