This probably doesn't make any sense. Basicly, I'm writing journal entries as if I was Rorschach, simply to test my own abilities on how I can act as another person. So, if you'd be so kind, I'd love feedback. If I suck, flame me. Burn me until not even ashes are left. If I'm okay, let me know.
But as a warning, the characters in this refer to actual people who I know. That's the point of being a mask, isn't it? That people know you exist even though they don't know who you really are. Rorschach is, of course, myself. I'd like to give credit to Veidt, Daniel, HJ, and Dollar Bill. I wouldn't have this without you guys. And to Allan Moore. Without Watchmen, I'd probably be a little stupider than I am now.
I own nothing but my words.
Girlycard666 :P
Rorschach's Journal. January 24.
Can't read my book, the chattering gossip of whores permeates the air with haughty voices demanding cheap sex and a plethora of nighttime vices. Assembled like a flock of harpies, their pointed beaks tear at the flesh of the man among them. Each looking for temporary satisfaction the spilled blood gives.
They cry like children flailing against the breast of their dead mother, a hellhole which spawned these putrid beings the same way the rest are. Born screaming, die screaming.
Does the essence of good exist in these alleyways? Is there a reason for this breeding ground of sin to continue to stand? Surprised a building with such decayed foundations can exist with termites fleeing into the shadows.
There is Daniel. Good man, possibly homosexual. Doesn't recognize what he used to mean, what he could be again if he wished. Probably enjoys his cage too much. Likes being a face in the crowd. Childish. Still mourns over the death of the cat. Doesn't realize that the past can't change. What's done is done. Can only keep moving forward.
Rorschach's Journal. January 25.
Hooded Justice absent. Dollar Bill stands depressed, eventually walks home in shame. Unable to function without use of violence. Enough to corrupt a mind. World gets worse as each day goes, too busy drowning in its own filth to start swimming.
Weariness is gone form yesterday. Still feel empty. Useless. One mask can't do the same as five. Am I the only face of justice?
Shouldn't be. Know how… "unjust" I am. Have too much hate to be just. Can only strive for it. At least I try, unlike fellow costumed heroes whimpering in the light. Keene Act killed off the best of us, only Comedian, Manhattan, and I remain. Terrifying thought; a God who doesn't care for humanity, an amoral tool of the government, and me. Defenders of humanity.
Rorschach's Journal January 26.
Returned to normal. Veidt took a leave of absence. Not surprised.
Argued with Dollar Bill over which is smarter, survive in slavery or kill yourself for freedom. He chose suicide. Felt that by defying authority, you defeat them. Seems like taking the easy way out. Allowed them to take your life, to break your spirit, to drive yourself into such horror. With living, spirit continues to be tested. Shows strength to keep fighting. Cannot give up. Not when there is life.
Hooded Justice kept silent. Didn't choose sides. Probably wisest. Can't say exactly what anyone would do. What men say and what they do are two different things.
Rorschach's Journal January 27
Slightly depressed. Somehow stole Hooded Justice's respitory sickness. Rather irritating. Back sore from patrol. Nothing immune system can't handle.
Rorschach's Journal. January 28.
Sickness remains. Refuse to give up. Can handle this temporary cold.
Theory on Hooded Justice. If Dollar Bill walks by, Hooded Justice soon to follow. May be off by a few seconds. So far, rather true.
Daniel's behavior is suspicious. Dilated pupils, copies my stance. Confusing. Have brought it up with him. Can't explain it. Should realize we stopped being partners last year. Maybe he can't let go. I did, and survived. Alone, yes, but survived.
