Journal Entries 3

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I'm losing it. I'm losing everything that made me special. My muscles are gone. My bones feel creaky. I ache all over. My skin is wrinkling, sagging, cracking. My teeth chatter and hurt. I should have died back then, on that meadow, needle in my ankle, looking up at the stars, but the power kept me alive.

Now, without it, I'm dying.

I don't mind dying. Somewhere along the way, after so many fights where I thought I would die, I learned how to put my life on the line. I learned what it meant to give my life up for others. I don't mind my body breaking apart by a beam or getting torn into pieces from a variant.

But this, I hate. I hate it.

I'm losing my mind.

I'm feeling the same cloudiness I did before I got my powers. I'm starting to feel cravings. I'm starting to shiver all over. I wake up at night in a cold sweat, hungering, jittering for more.

Not for H, not for any drug, but for power.

The power that made me special.