I'm now the new Sheo. Not sure if I'm mortal, god or whatever. I don't feel like one definitely. I don't even look like a Daedra. Even Haskill wasn't sure. Jyggalag mentioned his doubt also but time will tell. Anyway, Haskill told me the Realm now reflects my mood and the state of madness. I don't feel mad… or feel weird yet. I'm not really sure me being the new Sheo is a wise choice but then who would be crazy enough to do the stuff that I have… or seen.

Haskill informed me I have to attend duties… responsibilities of the Realm. The Duchess of Dementia and Duke of Mania as always coming to court with something to complain or annoy the oblivion out of me. Honestly, since when was I meant to take a courtly life or even settle down in a demented or manic one anyway? This… this is something Martin could handle, was meant for… not the insane side or maybe he could. He'd said to me once that he had some experience with the Daedras. Funny, how our roles switched. Yeah, funny. Martin, you told me I am to be the scribe of the next Elder Scroll. How I am to do that when I'm… I'm stuck with THIS! And Martin, I think you were drunk. Me, writing one?! Writing history! Hah! Only a madman can do something like that… or a mad god, let alone vision one. There goes me, rambling in my journal. Anyway, I need to go back to Cyrodiil and visit him. How long has it been? Almost a year, I think. I'm sorry old friend. I would visit your awe-inspiring dragon statue if I haven't been SO GODDAMN CAUGHT UP WITH THIS HORSESHIT!

The Blades must be worried.

Shivering Isles has been suffering storms after storms. Haskill said it's because of my mood. Oh sure, I can't take my time sulking even when I'm his lord. It's not like I can force myself to be happy you know! Only a mad man can switch from sad to happy in second. Actually, that's something the old Sheogorath could do. I'm amazed at the mood swings he has, and not all were pleasant as he could suddenly turn dark and dangerous all of a sudden. And the Shivering Isles wants a lord like that? A troll. Hm, I can start with the trolling about. I've been known to cause havoc and mayhem in my bored time even before the Isles. Let's see if they like it.

Also my hair is going silver. All out silver. About time I think. The stress of all the adventuring and saving the world has finally caught up… and Oblivion, my eyes have turned yellow.

Isles have been suffering a drought. Not my fault. I'm bored. Bored. Bored. BoredBoredBORED! Even the usual entertainers bored me! So I did the drastic. I played magic. I had plenty unused and I wanted to do SOMETHING. I juggled the entertainers and laughed madly at the looks they were giving me. Then I throw them out of the windows, breaking them and raining the halls with glasses. Their screams and the sound of bones breaking reminded me of good old time. How long has it been since my last adventure? I didn't miss being slashed, burnt, stabbed, and all that crazy pain stuff. But I do miss the rushed feeling of life being dire all of a sudden. Been sighing a lot. I think I plan to go out the realm for a while. I need a break.

I also told Haskill to do the dancing this time and the look on his face was priceless.

Haskill saw me dancing alone in the throne room. He backed out immediately. Saw the look on his face. Priceless. Just priceless. But I soon grow bored. I'm running out things to do. I know, I should pluck my own eyes out. See if it grows back. See what I did there? Besides, the yellow cat eyes are horrid anyway

Gave Haskill a heart attack when he found me eyeless. Told him I was fine. Didn't hurt actually. And the wonderful thing happened, my eyes grew back without me healing or any prompting at all. I asked him what's going on and he said the Oblivion magic, particular the Madhouse was finally working. My body is becoming immortal… And that's weird, because my beard is hardly growing.

Also, my Daedric Prince's artifacts have been disappearing. I'm going to find the thief and plan to rip his spine out from out of his mouth… but I'm guessing after not being used for so long, they all have returned to their masters. And their masters would probably lose it again…

Time… time past. Friends passed away. They grew old. Some I hardly recognize. I'm losing memories. Who am I? I hardly recognize myself anymore. Every time I try to remember, I see me, but a different me but all… all became me, this me in the mirror. I'm becoming lost within another… another that's filled with blood and destruction. And it always goes on and on with stark clarity… so clear. It's Jyggalag's memories. Another was full of screaming and passionate laughter. They blend so well together that I couldn't tell who's screaming or laughing. It's the sound of insanity. No doubt, it's Sheogorath's. I'm losing myself. I've done things that I wouldn't think or imagine in a million years… yet I have, and did. I'm even remembering memories… memories about the dawn of Nirn, the beginning. Padomay and Anu… I can't describe it, but I'm losing. I think I'll stop writing. I'm sorry, but I grew bored of recording my own thoughts. They have… become unpredictable lately and hard to catch also.

Dear Journal. This will be the last ever entry I will ever put into you. You've been my most faithful companion through thick and thin. Some pages are actually caked with my blood and those of my enemies. The edges are either burnt or chapped. Ho, you've seen a lot. So it's fair that you deserve a reward. I'm going to turn you into a tree… wait, are you made of animal's skin? That will be a problem if it is. But anyway, I'm turning you into a tree so that I could talk to you instead of write. But if I don't, forgive me for being unfaithful. Probably because I'm too busy being a cat while trying to get into Aethurius. Ho! I've got a better idea. I'll put you into my wabbajack. Give you life! It looks boring and ugly anyway, and my inscribed thoughts would give it a whole new charming look.