9:4

June the second, nineteen hundred and fifty

He says I have to practice my script. He says that if I can’t write properly then I can’t think properly; and if I can’t think then I’m just a waste of His time, that He might as well take me back to the bridge and toss me over like my father was going to.

And so I will write for Him. But I will also write for myself. This will be a journal for me and me alone; He will never see it, never judge it, and it will be my secret. Not like that tatty leather book He has. I bet He doesn’t even suspect that I’ve been reading it. And that is justice: I will steal from him as He steals from everyone. And now I’ve stolen a new name from Him too. His book ‘gave’ it to me and who am I to refuse. Let Him call me whatever He wants, for I know someday He will call me it for the last time.

For He is the master of chaos, an illusion of the devil and the very incarnation of destruction, and I will contain Him. I will bring order to the world and lay Him low.

And so here I set out my plan.

Ordo ab chaos
Barnabas