[Pancrazio Gambino]

If you want to live I'd recommend closing this book, putting it back where you found it, and pretending you don't know it exists. Because I will know if you've read it or even touched it, so just put it down now.

[Pancrazio Gambino]

Dear Weird Journal Thingy-majigger,

If I'm completely honest, I think it's pretty pointless to waste time writing in a journal. After all, the things you need to get out of your system are better said to a person. A journal can't give you any insight that might help. It can't talk back, and it can't defend you. It can, on the other hand, spill all your dirty little secrets without so much as putting up a fight. So basically, it's stupid to write anything in a journal that you don't want the whole world to know later. Which totally defeats the purpose, doesn't it?

And now that I've gotten all of that out, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm bothering with a journal at all. Truth be told, I'm not sure I have another option. I mean, keeping a journal is pretty much dangerous unless you are incredible at being vague. But talking to people can be so much more dangerous. You never know who you can really trust or just who might be listening.

Since I seem to have exhausted every other option I could have used to express myself, I'm going to be stuck with this journal. So let me first say that I refuse to be impossibly vague. I'm pretty sure that totally ruins the point of having a journal, as well. So, I'll just have to get really good at hiding this journal... or lying...

Now. First things first. My name is Pancrazio, but no one calls me that. I go by Pan or Crazy Pan, not Pancrazio. I'm nineteen and if that's not bad enough, I'm a lycanthrope as well. If you don't know what that means, its like a werewolf. Only I'm not a werewolf, oh no. I'm a were-jaguar. As if that's so much better. How did I get to be one? Well, I have a habit of pissing people off and I pissed off a cat-boy one night and he kicked my ass across the street and to the corner. Only I got a few hits in as well. Blood mixes with blood and next thing I know I'm not human anymore. It rocked for a while, then it started pissing me off, everyone who wasn't afraid of me wanted to kick my ass because of something that was suddenly in my DNA, like it was my fault or something. Puh-lease. Then all these murders started happening and I realized that it'd be better to 'stick with my own kind'. Only there aren't enough jaguars in Las Vegas to make our own Pard, so I'm chilling with the leopards, they're an alright bunch even if they're too touchy-feely for my liking. And they're nudists or something because in the house clothing seems to be a foreign word to all of them.

Because this is only the first entry, I'm not going to get into specifics about myself that isn't general knowledge. Even if I am planning to pour out all my secrets here, they're going to have to be a little further in than this. So this entry was essentially a waste of space. Congratulations to the prying eyes that decided to risk my wraith by reading this.

I'm watching you!
-Pan

[Pancrazio Gambino]

Dear Weird Journal Thingy-majigger,

So, I got bored as all fuck this afternoon and started checking my e-mail. Lots of porn (cause everyone could use more porn), penis enlargement ads (not that I need it), random get-rich-quick schemes, and then this one that wasn't weirdo useless spam or scam. It asked me to rate some co-worker's Daemon. So, I clicked on the link, said what I thought about him, then took one of my own. I figured I'd get some big cat or something. Oh no, not something cool. I got a fucking Sparrow, how cheap is that? So, I spammed everyone in my address (including lots of people I don't know) and made them rate my Daemon. Hopefully, it'll change into something cool before the 12 days are up.

I still can't believe I got a fucking tiny, useless bird. I am so pissed.

]What it said about me:

Bold and Brash Soul

You love to be the centre of attention. You are a confident, laughing, and sometimes stubborn person with an ever-growing circle of friends. You love to be out and doing things. Too much time at home alone results in you feeling stagnant and listless. A good night out with a bunch of friends will soon return you to full spirits, however.

Your friends are important to you, and you love to add new people to the bunch. You love a good laugh, but the soppy sentimental types sometimes accuse you of being a little callous. You just ignore those people. You don't really care what they think about you, anyway, and it's not worth getting emotional over. You probably just brush these people off. They aren't worth your time.

Your close friends sometimes wonder what is under that extroverted, active exterior of yours. You don't intend for them to find out. You feel very uncomfortable with emotional discussions, and your friends are for fun, not for sharing feelings with.

Your daemon's form would represent your outgoing, fun loving nature, and your dislike of showing "real" emotions. She would probably be as much of a clown as you are, and wouldn't try to make you share your feelings. Instead, she would be likely to simply give you an unsympathetic kick in the butt when she thought you needed it. If you did want someone to talk with, however, she would be there.

Suggested forms: Goat, Peacock, Muskox, Sparrow.

Sucks, no? Anyway, if anyone finds you and wants to take the quiz themselves its here.

I also found out I scored 19 on Extroversion, higher than 96% of my peers, -32 on Sensitivity, higher than 0% of my peers, -20 on Openness, higher than 0% of my peers. So, I'm an insensitive, closed off, party animal.

Whatever.

Total waste of my time anyway.

Later
-Pan

[Pancrazio Gambino]

Dear Weird Journal Thingy-majigger,

Got tickets to this pretty unknown band called 12 Stones. Some bartender buddy of mine had an extra one and offered to take me. Listening to a bunch of screaming kids, too loud music, and lots of alcohol for a night. . . Hmm, I've had worse. So, me and him went to this place in the middle of the desert, just some cheap-o stage a few kegs, lots of alcohol, and trucks. I hope he didn't think of it as some kinda date, I mean the guy's cool and all, just not my type, ya know?

Anyway, the band, 12 Stones, was pretty sweet. Nice guitars, just enough screaming like Drowning Pool meets the old Good Charlotte or Green Day. I ended up buying their CD, it was only twelve bucks, and we listened to it the entire ride to the after party, windows rolled down, screaming the lyrics, music blaring, smoking and still drinking.

I'm beat, its 7:49 the next morning and I just wanted to throw something in here before I went to bed and the hang over made me forget everything about tonight. It made me feel like a kid again, you know like I was in high school and lycanthropes were just some monsters on the news and it could never happen to me. It was a good night, I'm never going to call that guy again though. Can't afford to feel normal when people like me are being skinned alive.

My favorite lyrics from 12 Stone's song called "Lie To Me":


Our candle burns away
The ashes full of lies
I gave my soul to you
You cut me from behind

Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide
You're scared of the truth, I'm tired of the lies
Cuz who I am, is where you wanna be

Don't act like an angel
You fallen again
You're no super hero
I found in the end

So lie to me once again
And tell me everything will be alright
Lie to me once again
And ask yourself before we say goodbye
Well goodbye
Was it worth it in the end?

You said you were there for me
You wouldn't let me fall
All the times I shared with you
Were you even there at all?

Nowhere to run and no where to hide
You're scared of the truth, I'm tired of the lies
Cuz who I am, is where you wanna be

Don't act like an angel
You fallen again
You're no super hero
I found in the end

So lie to me once again
And tell me everything will be alright
Lie to me once again
And ask yourself before we say goodbye
Well goodbye
Was it worth it in the end?

Why'd you have to up and run away
A million miles away
I wanna close my eyes and make believe
That I never found you

Just when I put my guard away
It's the same old story
You left me broken and betrayed
It's the same old story

Don't act like an angel
You fallen again
You're no super hero
I found in the end

So lie to me once again
And tell me everything will be alright
Lie to me once again
And ask yourself before we say goodbye
Well goodbye
Was it worth it in the end?

Lie to me once again
It's the same old story
Lie to me once again
It's the same old story

Was it worth it in the end?

Lie to Me, My Life, Broken, Open Your Eyes, Running Out of Pain, It Was You, Waiting for Yesterday, and Fade Away are all on the CD I got. All of them are awesome. Hope, I didn't break the CD when I fell off the curb. Anyway, night. I don't even know if I can hide this before I fall asleep.

Rock on!
-Pan

[Pancrazio Gambino]

Dear Weird Journal Thingy-majigger,

A few of my contacts said there's someone looking for me around town and not looking for a fix. That either means its the feds, cops, or someone I pissed off a while back. None of those are very good options in my book. What worried me the most was that the contact that told me this was a business woman - an older lady that I deal to. She's a nice lady, thinks I'm in college and from a rich family and that I just deal small amounts of illegal substances to piss my parents off. I don't want her pity, I'm not going to tell her that I'm not in school, never graduated high school even, and live on a side of town she'd never even drive through. I'd like to keep her as a customer rather than have her go to the police in an effort to "help" me.

Last time someone came looking for me, I was a kid and had gotten my ass kicked a week ago by the guy that turned me into a werejaguar. Yeah, so you can see why I'm not so keen on being found. You'd think people would get the hint when no one knows my address, my last name, my age, or even a number that isn't from a disposable cell phone that changes anywhere from once a week to once a month, depending on my current cash flow. I'm invisible and I like it that way. If I want to talk to someone I'll find them, not the other way around, NEVER the other way around.

Sure, some people would call me paranoid, but I think its just longevity. I'll live longer if I'm watching out for myself. If I ever start wearing tinfoil on my head saying the aliens can read my brain otherwise, then I want myself either shot or locked in a padded cell so doped up that I can barely blink. Cause then I'll really be Crazy Pan.

This kid looking for me makes my hair stand on end. I'm already feeling all twitchy because of the skinnings and murders around town. Hell, I even went out and bought another rosary. I mean I know I'm going to Hell, that's not even up for debate. It just a matter of which sin is the worst and which circle I'll be spending eternity in. Still, old habits die hard and I'd like to think that my entire life isn't royally fucked over completely.

I'm starting to feel the need for a fire again. Its been to long since my last one. I've been scooping out some places, got them on video. I can't decide which I want to do first, it'll all depend on which will burn longest and create the biggest bang in the media. Its not even that hard to do. All you need are three matches, a piece of paper, cigarette, and rubber band. Then you just wait and watch and when no one's looking light the cigarette and get ready for a show. The need is under my skin, crawling around more than the Jaguar does when its the night before the moon. I've gotta get some relief and set one soon, maybe that'll help with the paranoia, if not then I can always go looking for the bastard who's looking for me and take care of business that way.

You're not really paranoid if you're right.
-Pan