1st of February, 2007.

Well… guess I'm still here, that much anyone can tell from this entry. It's just been… wild, chaotic… I went in all directions, or well, the directions that still have me sitting here, breathing, even though my breaths are heavier than ever. What can I say, really? I've learned a lot during these past few months, which lead to me decide this once and for all.

I… I am not going to be writing in this notebook anymore. This is it, my last entry, one to wrap up all the others. Yeah… I know that, if someone were to read this, they would be confused as to why I decided to stop. I mean, I sometimes wonder that as well. There's way more than half of the notebook that doesn't have anything written down, and I don't like unfinished stuff, it always makes me sad to see something without a resolution of sorts, good or bad. I just want to say, don't worry about me. I know the ending is abrupt, but that doesn't mean I am going to… well, let's just say I'm still kicking for now. It hurts, and I can't guarantee I won't… indulge in something drastic and irreversible, but… well I'm gonna talk about it later, so let me just explain why this is the last you'll hear from me.

One of the reasons I don't want to do this anymore is because I don't have any incentive to. It's just… nobody but me ever reads this thing, or adds something to it. Nobody even know it exists. It's not like I haven't told them I had it, but… it just has the same impact on me as it has on others. I rarely ever write in it, I just forget that it exists, and when I do remember, again, you wouldn't wanna gamble on whether I am gonna write in it or not.

Sonic… he was the one who suggested the whole diary/journal thing. He must have thought it would help me release my burdens, let some things go and cope with what's left. Instead, I don't see anything that would have happened differently if I didn't have it. Perhaps it's because I should have used it more frequently, but that would just defeat its purpose. I had to force myself to write this thing as it is, it would do more harm if I forced myself now.

The second reason is that what I've written so far is… hard to read. Not because of my handwriting or because I mucked it up. It's just that I feel awful whenever I go over it. I just… every single word just gets me to remember everything, I end up feeling the same as I did when I wrote them. It's supposed be to cathartic, at least, that's what I was lead to believe, but I genuinely feel ill reading through it.

Overall, what's the point of having a book that you can't go over yourself or that you won't show to others? I could easily just tell them how I feel now, instead of them looking through this and saying "Oh look at how you got better" like my grief is some sort of race and every single sentence I wrote is to be taken at face value.

…

In case anyone does find this book while I'm away, I guess I should say how I'm doing. If my emotional state is a presented through a graph, I guess the value is higher than in Entry 6 and lower than in Entry 4. Personally, I don't really care about measuring my own happiness, simply because anything I try to infer from that sort of data would be… just not true. I am going to be discouraged if I see my condition has worsened, and if I see it become better, it's just gonna be even more hurtful when it inevitably drops again.

…

I've been talking about nothing but me, like I'm the centerpiece of this whole show. Sonic… if you can somehow sense my words, you'd know it's going to make me feel better when they're written down. I just want to thank you for… everything. Before you, I wasn't even treated as a kid, I was treated like a monster of sorts, like a… freak. You did that, and much more. When I was with you, I was more than some kid, I was your little brother, your protégé, and I know you care about me just as much I care about you. So please, whatever happens to me, I hope you can understand why I did what I did. Wherever you are, and regardless if I appear to you as a tiny fox or an elderly one, know that the memories we had were worth it.

…

I don't know if I'll ever get cured of this horrible feeling. Maybe it's gonna be alright after a few months or so. Maybe it's just a matter of time. Maybe there's no cure after all, and I'm stuck in this limbo of my neutral state being lower than average forever. Maybe there is nothing to be cured, after all. And maybe, just maybe, the actions I take while riddled with this anguish will prevent me from ever knowing the answer.

…

For now, I am just going to take things as they come, one at a time… hopefully. Again, I don't like leaving things unfinished, but I suppose you have to fail one thing to succeed in another. I want to thank all my friends for standing up for me, for helping me in their own way. I am sorry for thinking that you did this purely out of pity for me. Deep down, I know you all care about me, and that's fine, because I care about you guys too. Don't blame yourselves if I don't recover from this, I just hope you all understand that… that… that you all had a great impact on my life.

As for anybody who's reading this, as I said, you will not see any more of my words here again. Thank you for looking out for me and goodbye.