Disclaimer: The following diary entry contains dark and disturbing material. Reader discretion is advised.
It's been a while since I last picked up my pen to spill the thoughts that have been festering inside me. It seems fitting, given the circumstances, to jot down these ramblings as a way to make sense of the chaos consuming my mind. They say writing can be therapeutic, an outlet for one's turmoil. God knows I need some form of release in this godforsaken place.
A Troubled Past
My journey into madness didn't start here at the Overlook Hotel; it began long before Wendy and Danny became entangled in its web of horrors. My demons lurked within me from childhood – anger issues simmering beneath a thin veneer of normalcy.
Childhood Memories Haunting Me
Hazy recollections float through my mind like lost specters seeking solace or revenge – who can tell? My father was no saint; his violent outbursts cast shadows over our home, leaving scars on my soul that never quite healed.
The Bottle Becomes My Refuge
As life unfolded around me with all its hardships and disappointments, alcohol became both friend and foe - providing temporary respite from reality but also fueling fires deep within that threatened to consume everything dear to me.
Hope Amidst Desperation
The opportunity presented itself when Stuart Ullman offered us caretaker positions at this grand mountain hotel during its winter closure period - an isolated sanctuary where I could focus on reconnecting with Wendy and making things right for once... if only it were that simple.
Isolation Breeds Madness
Days blend into weeks as isolation wraps around us like icy tendrils squeezing tighter each passing day. Time stretches unnaturally here – moments elongate until they become unbearable weights upon fragile minds.
The Voices Within
Whispers echo through empty corridors when darkness falls, taunting me with secrets I can't decipher. My sanity teeters on the edge of a precipice as these spectral voices speak to my darkest fears and desires – their seductive promises tempting me towards an abyss from which there may be no return.
The Descent Begins
The hotel's malevolent influence grows like black mold in the crevices of my mind. Shadows dance mockingly at every corner, distorting reality until truth becomes obscured by a shroud of delusion.
A Portrait of Frustration
My writing, once a source of solace and creative release, now mocks me from its stagnant prison within this haunted maze. Each word bleeds onto paper like drops from an open wound - raw anguish exposed for all to see.
Sleepless Nights Wielding Nightmares
Sleep eludes me; dreams twist into nightmares that haunt both waking hours and slumbering moments alike. Visions flood my mind with horrifying images: blood-soaked hallways, decaying corpses whispering sweet nothings into ears long gone deaf... or perhaps it is merely madness playing tricks upon fragile senses.
There comes a point when one can no longer differentiate between what is real and what exists only inside fractured thoughts. Rationality slips away like sand through trembling fingers as paranoia tightens its grip around reason's throat.
Even Wendy has become unrecognizable amidst this descent into madness - her eyes filled with fear whenever she gazes upon me as if peering deep into the dark void consuming my soul.
And young Danny... oh dear God! He possesses powers beyond comprehension – abilities honed by innocence yet tainted by unspeakable horrors lurking within these walls. Is he connected to them? Or are they manipulating him for their own twisted purposes?
Epiphany or Final Madness?
In moments where clarity pierces through veils woven by the Overlook's malevolence, I am struck with an epiphany - a realization that my only escape lies in embracing the darkness. The hotel wants me to succumb; it yearns for my soul as payment for its twisted secrets.
There is freedom in surrendering oneself to madness – a liberation from societal constraints and moral obligations. In this descent into chaos, I find solace amidst the cacophony of fractured thoughts.
As these words flow forth onto paper, their ink staining like blood spilling from severed veins, I cannot help but wonder if anyone will ever read them. Will they serve as testament to my journey? Or will they be swallowed whole by this cursed place?
The Overlook Hotel has become both sanctuary and prison - an asylum where lost souls wander aimlessly through corridors tainted with despair. And here I remain, trapped within its suffocating embrace... forever haunted by the darkness within.
End of Entry