Today I had the displeasure of sorting through the mess left by my predecessor. Did that man have no sense of direction? The whole place is a tangled web of statements which are so distorted from any sort of order that it makes me want to end it. As usual, beholding anything left behind by my predecessor sends my brain into a spiral as I hunt through this strange excuse for an organisational system. It is up to me alone to slaughter the vast mess of the Archives, which stretches as far as the eye can see. I swear it'll be the desolation before I finish, corrupted by the urge to see this done. I think I'll die buried in ill-organised statements--my flesh the colour of ash from the lack of sunlight down here. Sorry, I'm being a tad dark. Suffice to say, my predecessor wasn't the tidiest person.