Entry by Deanna Rachel. This entry needs artwork!
Note from Matthew: Sadly, this one really doesn’t fit the canon since Dexter’s name never changes… however, Deanna took the time to write so dammit I’m taking the time to post it!
My name is Dexter Jared Peterson. I am 26 years old and I live in New York City. In the last seven years I have lived as 11,577 different people.
At the time of writing, I have currently found myself in yet another strange predicament. This is a natural occurrence for me, and as such, I am not unused to the conditions presented upon me during my past seven years of life. As such, each new life should not be particularly challenging, should it not? However, no two lives have ever been the same for me.
I have found myself in the body of what I can only assume is a scientist. Sadly, what kind of science is something I, right now, cannot quite figure out. The data laid out of the desk in front of me is quantitative data. It appears to be data about people. This, naturally, rules out Chemistry and Physics. I don’t claim to have the mind of a scientist, but I can safely say there are other sciences out there.
My name tag only reveals my name – no, my current name. It does not reveal my profession. However, when I wandered around a half hour or so ago, people appeared to show respect for me, greeting me in the hallway. I must be high-up in their ranks. Though, as always, I cannot be sure. “Good morning, Mr. Friedmann,” they greet. I reply with a nod, a show of courtesy to these people. I wonder how out-of-place I seemed to these people. I wish I could unlock the full potential of the brain I currently possess.
Perhaps I could, even if for a short period of time, attempt to figure out a way to stop the sudden changes. Even after seven years, the toll the flickering from body to body has on me mentally is grand. The effects are indescribable, yet at the same time, intriguing. I could write a novel of how this journey has affected me. But, I suppose, the diary does this for me. When I look in the mirror, I see a man. His hair is thinning and grey, his eyes tiny behind thick-rimmed glasses. Dark bags hang under his dark brown eyes, and I realize just how tired I am in this body.
The clothes are much too tight, I must admit. The form is large, causing me to waddle with each step. With every moment, the body shows me how it feels; hungry, tired, in pain. I am not sure how to soothe my temporary body, seeing as I have no indication of where food and a bed would be. For the moment, I will deal with the low rumble of my super-sized stomach, and the large yawns a hippopotamus would envy. I believe, for the moment, I could rate this body as livable.