Do not misunderstand my intentions. There is no specific purpose to these pages. No special meaning, nor ulterior motive. Nor is there any attempt at explaining myself or my actions. If you're looking for causality, search elsewhere.

This is merely an activity that amuses me. Nothing more. If it so happens that my enjoyment wanes, so too will these words.

Still, it's a hobby that I've kept up since childhood. And I must admit that going back to read some of my earlier installments tickles me. I was so naïve as a child. I still am in some respects.

For example; my prior views on friendship and intimacy.

The following is an excerpt taken from this very ledger. As I recall, I had just turned five.

\\/

Mother got angry with me again today. She accused me of being 'unkind' to that little girl who wanted to eat lunch with me. I don't think I was, though. Only honest. I told her that eating with her would likely make me vomit. And it would have. These younglings disgust me even when they aren't trying to talk to me with a mouth full of food.

Mother tells me that I am rude and must try harder to be nice to the other children. That it is the right thing to do.

To what end, though? I am unimpressed by them. Utterly. And, really, what makes something right or wrong? Truthfully, they seem entirely subjective to me. What if I had been 'nice' to her? What if I had humored her and then, in fact, thrown up on her? Wouldn't that have been even worse? Is the real message here to be dishonest?

Humans are confusing. Even mother's values elude me.

Her frustration with me is becoming more and more frequent. She is starting to understand just how inhuman I really am. She never has to explain these things to Dante, and she doesn't seem to grasp just why I don't get it. I wonder if she and father ever had these types of arguments.

I miss father. I understood him. He made sense.

Dante understands them. He doesn't have any problems socializing with his peers. Not like I do. I once asked him how and he just smiled at me and shrugged, "Just can, Verge. I get them."

I don't. Nor do I want to.

They flock to Dante. He has a natural charismatic charm.

I don't. Just the opposite, in fact.

He appreciates it when the girls tell him he's cute. Or that they like his hair or eyes.

I don't. I hate the attention I receive from these future trollops. In fact, in an attempt to end it, I once tried to disfigure my face. I took a straight razor to it, but I healed in seconds. Damn it all.

When I do make an attempt at conversation, I leave them in the dust. They don't understand the words I use. They call me 'weird' for using them. Apparently, the humans view intelligent conversation with contempt. They are much more interested in appearance and materialistic gain.

Simple, idiotic bovines.

It's exhausting, trying to dumb myself down just to try and associate with beings whom I'd much rather not.

Why can't I just be left alone? Is that so wrong? Is it so unusual?

Apparently, it is.

Sometimes, just before we fall asleep, Dante and I will chat. This is usually the time where we discuss just how different we are. From each other, as well as from every other child we knew.

One time I asked him how he can seem to be so content with father gone. He said he was sad at first, and then the hurt went away as the days passed.

Sad? Hurt?

I asked him to define these terms.

He gave me the strangest look and asked me if I knew what sad was.

I shook my head.

He asked me if I knew what happy was.

I shook my head.

Dante frowned a little, then asked me what I felt like on the inside.

I told him that I felt empty. That I had ever since father had disappeared.

"How can you not know what sad and happy are, Vergil? That's just weird."

Even my own twin thinks I'm strange. Father never did. He always seemed to know where I was coming from. I never had to discuss silly, abstract ideas like 'happy' or 'sad' with him. He understood me. We got each other. Sometimes, we didn't even need to use words to communicate. Just like I don't need to actually speak to Dante in order to talk with him.

I miss him.

Without him, the void within me is expanding.

Soon, I suspect it will engulf me completely.

\\/

There, now. You see? Very amusing. I chuckle every time I reread this particular passage. "Out of the mouths of babes" and all of that.

I was very articulate for my age. I've always been a wordsmith. Truly, it's a cruel joke. I am one who is eloquent to the point of fault, yet I detest speaking to people. The powers that be must be having quite a laugh at my expense.

At any rate, this ramble has gone on about long enough. I don't even understand why I've returned to this ledger after so long. Indeed, my last memorandum is over seven years old.

Oh, yes. I remember now.

My initial reason for this entry was to document the fact that I am now under contract to protect and share my home with a human female.

Fate, you are a cruel, cruel mistress.

I picked her up from the airport last night and wasted no time in establishing the pecking order. She seemed rather soft-spoken and easily swayed, which suited me just fine. Until this morning when I discovered how much of a little smart ass she is. Imagine, speaking back to a devil, in his own nest no less. Actually, now that I think on it, she likely didn't realize what I was at first. Now though, she does. And still, she attempts to befriend me.

It's strange. She doesn't seem to be unintelligent. I wonder what my allure is.

In the past, I've found that being unpleasant and threatening, despite my good-looks, is usually more than enough to ensure my privacy. With her, however, it wasn't. She didn't even appear daunted by it.

I must admit that I'm just the slightest bit intrigued.

On a final note, there is one point that I must bring up, though it pains me to admit it. It is fact that I was taken aback when my inner beast was tempted to answer her challenge. To cow her and make her submit to him and myself.

It was... Surprising. I haven't felt an urge like that in...

Never.

Not towards a human, anyhow. Why bother? They're worthless.

Surely, this was just a momentary lapse in my self-control. Nothing more.

... There was a knock on my bedroom door just now. The damned girl keeps trying to cook for me.

This will not end well.