Murphy's Journal, Page 26

My only hope now is to get off this island, this nightmare. I have found some solace in my new found determination, and my fear now acts as a powerful motivator instead of a crippling sickness, but dread nevertheless weighs heavily upon my heart. I do not ... I cannot remember my home anymore, so long have I been away. No longer do I see it in my dreams. All that remains in my vision is unending jungle and the million eyes of bloodthirsty creatures.

In my explorations, I have found some sturdy mood and strong vines that could prove beneficial in my attempts to build a raft. I have already begun some rudimentary construction on such a craft; whether or not it could bear me back home remains to be seen, but it is better to hope than to despair. As long as the raft proves seaworthy, I will take my chances on the open ocean.

I fear I am going mad. Even now, I feel as though I am being watched. Though I am exhausted, i cannot sleep, in case some creature pounces on me during the night, and when I do slip into a fitful doze, my dreams are filled with soulless eyes and gaping jaws, full of jagged teeth. Who can discern what is real and what is only my imagination?