[ There are lots of scribbles and ink blots. It's obvious that Ivan is straining to find the right words. ]
I am of no use to anyone lately, it se
I cannot take this anymo
I just want blue skies. Everything and everyone is angry.
[ The writing is suddenly hard and jerky, as if the quill was only moments away from ripping through the paper in irritation. ]
Why will nobody calm down? Perhaps a good knock in the head will fix everyth
[ And suddenly, the writing comes to an abrupt stop? There are sporadic, sometimes large ink blots strewn over the page... and suddenly the orientation of the journal entry switches to voice-- and a threatening voice, at that. ]
Journal, you are being insubordinate. If-- you do not... STOP this, I will be forc-
[ KOLKOLKOL. The sound of rustling papers gives way to low grunting, yelling and the sounds of rips everywhere. Suddenly, all falls eerily silent, the voice function ceasing to work at all. ]
[ ooc: Journal ripping, yay! Feel free to reply in written form; Ivan's replies'll be disjointed n' strange, but he'll try his best (he'll have to go out and buy a new one after this, yeah- he'll be replying on scraps of paper). Also, this is obviously backdated to the event. ]