Unit 999's Personal Journal (#2, electric boogaloo)

[?AG-CL? Sheo]

Day? I don't know what today is...
Time? Well.. From the sky it looks noonish.

Found another lined notebook.. Seems like a nice place to keep a journal - I miss writing a lot. The feel of a pen in my hand is relieving... Been under a lot of stress lately, but I'll pull through. I always do... I'm always expected to. I'm not allowed to quit, give up, or take a day off..

I'm expected to persevere - and not only that, but do so perfectly..

Sometimes, I feel like it's more than I can take... But then I remind myself that this isn't just who I'm expected to be, it's who I've become...

Enough about that though...

Something funny, you'd think citizens would learn not to go around attacking high ranking units? I was attacked twice today. The first one I had to let go because of extenuating circumstances.. But the second one, it seems, wasn't fast enough to dodge a 12 gauge shell to the chest.

Suppose this is all I'm going to write for today... I've got a damn weekly report to write, and a report on that last experiment to write as well, but the decryptor on my datapad seems to have fucked itself up to the point in which I can't access my Division's specific files anymore... Maybe GRID can fix it. Maybe I just need a new datapad. Wouldn't surprise me, considering this thing's been through hell with me...

To think of it, my datapad's been through grenade blasts, tons of falls, at least one firefight, lots of hand to hand, attack with blunt objects..

It's a bloody miracle I haven't broken this thing... Ah.. Well. Considering maybe it IS broken now it's a bit late to make that observation.

[?AG-CL? Sheo]

July 5th, 2016,

Managed to get my datapad fixed. Well, I didn't. GRID did though. Haven't managed to get much accomplished at work, other than managing to fuck up the simplest of things... I could blame it on the stress, but that'd mean that I was incapable of pulling my weight at my rank, and that I was some sort of inferior breed in my colleague's eyes... No, I'll go with the excuse that I'm a stupid, slow learner. Better to be though of as stupid, but capable than it is to be thought of as stupid and incapable.

I need to train more... Having my manifest be a sea of red is just damn embarrassing for being in my position.

I hate the day-to-day sometimes. Makes me want to pull my own hair out, which is ironic because that's a symptom of nervous schizophrenia, which would also end as me being thought of as incapable...

Leaves me with the thought... What am I going to do next? Fuck up yet again, or do something right to prove that I wasn't a mistake? Feels like my entire career life, rides on that question.

[?AG-CL? Sheo]

July 10th, 2016

Well. Another day at work. Another few people dead, and for some reason, I'm so damn numb to it I can't make myself shed tears anymore.. Reminds me of that conversation I had with Holmes. "To succeed in the path you've chosen, you must and will become a sociopath."

That's what he said. Or at least, something like it. At the time, I didn't understand what he meant. I was afraid to change. I wanted to stay me, I was afraid of becoming a monster. Of being like the very people I truly harbor hate for.. I've served the CCA for quite awhile now... I can barely remember my days as a citizen. But I remember my innocence. My naive beliefs of right and wrong, and how stubborn I was to change...

And how afraid I was of that change... Comparing myself to who I used to be.. It feels strange. Knowing that if ordered to, I would kill a person, exactly like who I used to be. It leaves me to wonder who am I? If my beliefs of right and wrong have faded, what do I believe in now?

The only answer I've come up with, is that I'm a weapon. A weapon to be wielded in some of the most violent and horrific ways, for the greater good...

It's not a good enough answer, yet I do not feel for any of my targets, I do not care for collateral damage. A weapon does not feel. A weapon does not care. A weapon destroys and will always destroy so long as the person wielding it continues to do so, or until the weapon breaks, or becomes outdated the way the sword became outdated to the rifle...

But if I'm going to be a weapon, I suppose I'm going to be a damn good one... In the meantime, I'm going to try and find something that's important to me again... Something to remind myself that I'm human.