Dear Diary
I couldn't sleep this morning. The Demon kept talking. The demon kept talking to the Martyr. I don't know what they were talking about. I was laying in bed thinking that when you sleep in your house you have to trust that the people inside of it don't go crazy and kill you. You see it all the time in the movies, and sometimes in real life. Just sometimes, for no apparent reason someone goes insane and kills every member of the house and then kills themselves.
Everyone in this house is insane. The Martyr is constantly self-sacrificing to the compromisation and dissatisfaction of everyone else. The Martyr always chooses what she likes least self assured that she is making a sacrifice and everyone else likes it least as well. In reality we are all individuals and usually what the Martyr likes least is what we all like best. The world is only how the Martyr sees it, and everyone else is wrong.
The Demon paces constantly and laughs at his games and computer as if the people talking are listening and real. I wonder sometimes if the demon will wake up and realize these people can't hear him, that they do not know he is listening. How will the Demon feel when he looks around and sees that he has ostracized himself from every other living being he has known save those in the household in which he resides?
The Angel is just psychotic. When she sets alone drawing countless images it is easier to deal with. When she screams and yells and sobs hysterically there is no consoling her until she is done with her fit. When she gets bored and stabs things it can be very costly. Her last attack was against the television screen, slicing a line across the center of it width wise. She hasn't attacked the current television yet, but it was used and older and not as easy to cut. Yet she refuses to go a second in the house without it on.
Whatever is wrong with me I am certain even hoping it will come out in this journal. Then I can see what it is. Maybe I can fix myself. I am so confused about who I am and what I am. I was brought up for the most part as a girl. Then I got sick. Blood work said I wasn't just a girl that I was XXY. I am a boy and a girl at the same time. My identity, what I thought was my identity came crashing down around me. The Hallow Man must have known. He never said a word. I would ask him but he has Alzheimer's, is locked away by his sisters family, and probably wouldn't remember anyway.
I'll talk more about everything later. This is enough for now.