ARTIFACT

6 A.M.

Off the coast of Cuba

Her name is Haquan. She has 6 decks, three inch alloyed steel and enough equipment to put NASA to shame. Haquan, my one true love. She is all I have left in life. My name is Doctor Jonathan Scurn, I’m 46 years old, and divorced. I never did like my ex-wife much, I just married her so all appeared well. Women, always a problem, but not my biggest problem. My biggest problem is I have a boat worth $2.4 billion dollars and a project that will require more then the envy NASA. What I need comes from the heart, and the heart alone. Love? No, that’s simple compared to what I need. I need something greater then love, greater then courage….. I need ambition. Right now, my life has none. I used to use this heap of Government money to raise ships and artifacts from Davie Jones locker, but now I just sail it from port to port looking for cheap whores to pick up and satisfy my undying lust. All I do now is get sucked off by some cheap ten dollar hooker that usually doesn’t even get paid because I beat her and threatened to destroy her family and kill her dog. The fucking bitch, I hope she dies. She never loved me anyways. I once had a cunt of my own, but I never loved her. I hope she fucking dies the untrained bitch. Sadly, that is not what this is about. I need ambition. How do I get ambition? Only god knows. The pot took most of it away, and the traitorous cunt I married for show. I hope she dies. Bitch. “Why don’t you take out the garbage?” She would ask. Normally I would respond with a punch to the face, but last time I just killed her puppy and fucked its corpse. Bitch. Ambition, something that doesn’t have a price (unless you have ecstasy).

7 A.M.

I can’t stop thinking about her. She haunts my sleep. I just want to sleep. I…. I can’t take it much longer. I tried taking some Nyquil, but it doesn’t seem to help. All I do is end up choking because I could never swallow pills any ways. I just end up having them melt on the tip of my tongue and letting that foul juice sip to the bottom of my mouth causing my tongue to stiffen…. I gag. I don’t just gag on the pill, but on the thought of that bitch. She is why I can’t swallow correctly. She and I tried snowballing once, and after that I never could get anything soft or with texture different then the norm down my throat. Chinese food is off the menu…. That bitch. Maybe I should burn her house down. Maybe I should try another pill…. Let it trickle down….

7:30 A.M.

I almost fell asleep, then I rolled over and my arm knocked a picture of us over. Yes, I know…. I’m pathetic. I still have our pictures up around the house. I… I miss her. Whatever I write or say about her is not true…. Maybe I can sleep now….

8:00 A.M.

Cunt took my sleep away. Now I can’t stop thinking about her, maybe my depression got in the way…. Sleeeeep.

10:00 A.M.

Ok, I skipped an hour. I called her a couple times, I want to fix things. A man answered the phone…. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT!?!?! That whore! It’s only been six months! Give me some time…. Come on babe, I still love you.

Well, I’m off to work.

8 P.M.

I did it, I finally quit. Now I can do what I have always wanted to do. Sell my boat and use it on ecstasy. I’ll be back later, time to hook up with Rico (my drug dealing friend).

2 A.M.

THIS IS SOME GOOD STUFF IM SO HAPPY I THINK SHE WILL TAKE ME BACK I JUST CALLED HER THE BITCH STILL GUY OVER HOUSE WOW HEY I HAVE PISTOL ME WOW.

4 A.M.

Tried to kill myself but missed from the arm shaking. I’m bleeding from the shoulder, but I should be ok. I put some super glue on the wound and wrapped it in bed sheets.

4:30 A.M.

I’m getting tired…. So tired…. I should sleep….

Night…