Author's Note: Erik belongs to Gaston Leroux. Thanks for the reviews that I have recieved. Yes it's short, not all journal entries are long.

July 1889

I've been digressing, my journal was not meant to be some sappy search for pity in myself or others. It is noone's business what I have done or will do. Although recently, these images of my past continue to play out in front of my eyes as a constant reminder of my crimes. I don't understand why they are coming to haunt me now. I had blocked my earlier years from my memory for a purpose. Maybe it's because I have too much time? Yes, I must occupy myself with more important things than writing in this journal.

And yet...

If I do not write these things down, I am not sure how I will continue creating with such a mess of swirling anger and confusion inside my mind. I must take a break from the past.

We received a new dancer today. Put bluntly; she intrigues me. She is purer than the whores of my house and I never see her look on any of the callers with any touch of interest. This makes me sound as if I am interested in her but that could not be further from the truth. I do not have interest in women, they are devilish creatures who sing their siren song, luring a man just to tease him, flaunting their bodies in a sexual dance to trap his heart.

I cannot love because I cannot be loved.