28th November
I always thought that being around idiots would let me get used to them. Heighten my tolerance of their imbecilic and maddening nature. However, I have found that the complete opposite has occurred.
I feel rage. Hot, ugly, aggressive rage – demanding tortured wails and floods of blood of those who irritate me. I want those useless wastes of flesh to feel retribution. I want those insects to feel pain - horrifying, gruesome pain. So horrible that it would make them beg for death. And as they plead by my feet, I shall laugh and continue my torment of them until they lose their minds.
I want to feel the gush of blood against my fingertips. To have the thick, pungent smell, the rich, scarlet liquid to cake my hands in them and even when I wash it off I can still smell.
Yes, I would make everyone pay. All those who've oppressed me shall pay. All of you who've had the nerve to antagonize me shall pay. The fools of the orphanage, my useless father, my thoughtless classmates, Dumbledore – all of you will pay.
I will become more, I will become anger, I will become power, I will become the thing your fear the most. You all will be afraid to even utter out my name, for I will become the most powerful wizard that the world, both Wizard and Muggle alike, has ever known.
My hands shake as I write in my journal; they agitate with the craving to commit all that I intend to do. But right now, I am only Tom Marvolo Riddle and can only plot my vengeance.
But soon, very soon, I will become Lord Voldemort. And then you'll see, all of you, what rage is.