Ozma's Journal

**Ozma's Journal**, also known as **Frank**, is the 42nd version of the Goodwitch Diary. It serves as Ozma's friend as well as log for her activities and scientific journal. She has kept it since she was 16 years old.

## Purpose

Ozma's diary contains recipes for both potions and chemical combinations as well as 'tidbits' (spells which she will not acknowledge). She also writes in it as if she is speaking to a person, addressing it by name and having one-sided conversations with it in a fashion similar to writing a letter.

*There's no place like home!* Watch out! This page or portion of the page contains SIGNIFICANT SPOILERS. Would you like to go back to the home page?

## Entries

### Opening Entry

*I wonder if this will ever be read by anyone but me. I don’t know what compels me to keep a journal; my life is not particularly interesting. It is composed of scientific research nobody will ever read and farming done solely to keep myself alive. Perhaps it is the journals I already have.*

*I am unsure how to begin this, so I suppose I will use this as an exercise in social interaction to some degree. A way of communicating with oneself in hopes of one day being able to easily communicate with others.*

*Well, let’s start with an introduction, then:*

*My name is Ozma Goodwitch, and I am a chemist. I live alone, and there is nobody around me for chunks upon chunks. I frequently move and rebuild house in hopes of finding other sentient life beyond my cats. I speak to them, and I feel as if I understand their mewling, but perhaps isolation just convinced me that. I talk to myself often — I get the best answers that way! That was a joke. Was it funny? I try extremely fucking hard to be funny but it is difficult when there is nobody to laugh at your bullshittery.*

*I do love chemistry. And physics! When one lives alone one must take care of oneself, and so I brew perfectly scientific elixirs that prevent illness, heal you, or help you survive. A particular favourite of mine is water breathing. While I do not swim and fear water, knowing how to make it is … comforting.*

*I became interested in chemistry because of the books at my house. You see, from what I can gather, I am very unusual.*

*I think I am nineteen, but I can’t be certain. My earliest memory is simply of waking up and being twelve years old. Or at least, I think that’s how old I was. I was alone in a house just like this one, surrounded by books in a language I couldn’t read. I didn’t know why, but I felt like crying. I spent the first few days of my existence just fucking crying.*

*I taught myself to read — sort of. The books in that house (I have also taken them with me as I migrate across this world) are written in two languages, one of which is the one I am currently writing in, and the other is fucking hard as balls to understand.*

*The books in this house are fiction about romance, fiction about witchcraft, nonfictional books about various sciences and history, or journals written in that dumbass language. There are so fucking many of them! Which is great, because it gives me something to do. I’ve read all of them over and over by now, though. Even the ones about witchcraft. Witchcraft is dumb as fuck because it blames perfectly understandable things on this airy concept of ‘magic’, which is crazy bullshit because it discredits the person who put all the work into something and says something exists simply because of a stupid fucking invisible force.*

*Anyway, the journals. There are so fucking many of them, it’s batshit crazy. I want so desperately to read them. I can tell they’re important. They’re written by hand, and all the text has a similar but slightly different appearance to it. I don’t know. Some of them make me want to cry, too, even though I don’t know what to say. I hate crying. Dried tears make your face sticky and I hate being sticky. I raise bees because honey is an excellent thing to survive off of, but holy shit I hate touching honey so much it makes me want to try to shake hands with a fucking creeper.*

*Also I like making cakes!*

*Oh, and besides chemistry, physics and the science of redstone are amazing. I like to build secret doors, even though I’m pretty sure I’m alone in the world.*

*Even as I get more sure I’m out here on my own, I tell myself if I just keep going, keep hunting down anybody else, that maybe one day I’ll fucking find someone. And then they’ll say “Hello! I’m Name of Somewhere! Who are you?” and then I’ll say “I’m Ozma of Nowhere!” and they’ll say “Nowhere?” and I’ll tell them how fucking alone I was for so fucking long and they’ll say “Oh, Ozma! We’ve been looking for you, we’re so fucking sorry we abandoned you for years!” and then they’ll explain why I was alone and I’ll be with other people and things will be okay. It’ll all be fucking okay and all of this bullshit will make perfect sense.*

*I like to plan out conversations in my head. If I plan out enough of them, and I understand social interaction right, then there’s no way anyone will dislike me.*

*I just have to not get stressed out. When I get nervous or scared, it feels like I’ve been hit by lightning and I get so fucking angry. I think I’m angry about the world leaving me behind.*

*Well, I told myself I’d be honest when I wrote things here, and I am. But one of the things I learned about honesty from books is that the truth hurts, and also hiding it from people is bad and usually causes problems. But I still kind of hope if when I find someone they will never find or read this. Telling people about yourself is like letting them hold your heart in your hands and telling them not to crush it. Like holding a baby bird.*

*Or at least, I imagine it that way.*

*My ~~potion~~ elixir of healing is done, so I’m going to go grab that. Maybe I’ll write more tomorrow. It feels nice to talk to someone who isn’t me or my cats. So, thanks. I guess.*

*I can't believe I just thanked a book.*

*Goodbye,*

*Ozma*

### Second Entry

*Hello Diary,*

*I’m not going to say “‘dear’ diary” because we’re only just beginning to get to know you. In fact, I dislike the words “diary” or “journal” at all. They feel like I’m talking to myself and the whole fucking point of this excursion is to get better at social interaction. Sort of. And keep track of things. I guess.*

*I don’t know. It’s all bullshit. The only certainty is uncertainty, right? The worship of doubt itself or whatever pretentious bullshit I think up late at night. I hate the idea of sounding hoity-toity and fancy. It’s patronizing. I think. I don’t know. It’s hard as balls to describe my feelings.*

*Anyway, as I was saying, it feels odd to call you a diary or journal or some shit so I’m going to give you a name. I hope you don’t mind it very much, it’s Frank. I picked it because I’m going to be frank with you.*

*… it’s hard telling jokes when the only person around is yourself. Just because I think something funny doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck ass. I thought that was funny, though. Just so you know.*

*It’s weird being alone. One day I’ll just be sitting there, working on a salve or something and then all of a sudden it hits me like an anvil that nobody else knows I’m out here. I don’t exist in anyone’s memories. After I’m dead I’m only going to exist in your pages, Frank.*

*Sometimes I wonder if I really am the last person alive, and I think about what I should do. Botch an elixir, drink it, lie down and close my eyes? Or try and find a way to fuck myself to make new people?*

*I don’t think I’d make a very good mother. It’s not like I ever had one, and in my stories most moms are evil or dead. I’m pretty sure I’m not dead, though I can’t speak to my evilness. I hope I’m not evil. I’ll have to ask someone if when I finally come across them.*

*What if I am evil? What would I do then?*

*I always have so many questions and never any answers. Hunting for the answers always leads to more questions and then I just feel like I’m trying to impress someone who isn’t here with that ostentatious philosophical bullshit. I’m not very wise, I’m just kind of smart about the way bodies are. I think that when I meet someone I want them to think I’m not very much of anything so I can warp myself to what they want. Actually, is that evil? That sounds evil. Maybe not.*

*I wish I had a book on how to just be some guy. Like literally just a normal ass dude. I have books on everything from Archery to Zoology, but nothing on how to manage social fucking interaction. Am I crazy? Am I bad at it just because I’ve been alone all my life? Am I even bad at it? It feels like I wouldn’t be friends with me when I talk to myself.*

*What do you do if you’re secretly an asshole?*

*I’m asking you all these questions, even though you can’t give me answers. You see what I mean, Frank? I don’t know shit about shit beyond what helps keep you in good health and a couple other fancy things to help you survive. Even then, I just learned that from books written by other people. Am I even “kind of smart” at all? Have I just lied to myself for so long that there’s nothing under here? Like if you pulled me apart there wouldn’t be a person, just a hissing black void; nothingness.*

*This is why I don’t like to think too hard about the big picture or sound pretentious. It makes me feel so hollow and all of the cat-cuddling in the world isn’t going to make my sad go away.*

*I need to find someone, Frank. I unironically gave you a name.*

*I really am pathetic, aren't I?*

*Ozma*

### The Day of Meeting

*Frank,*

*Today I met people! A shit tonne of people, actually! I was going for a walk to build a new house in a new location so I can could keep scouting for people and I found this weird little glowy golden thing. I was standing in it and talking to myself like I do pretty much all the time and suddenly there were a bunch of other people! I don’t remember the order they came in because I got so excited I thought I was going to jizz my pants so I’ll just list them by approximately how much I know about them.*

*Actually wait I just remembered I found Mae first! She was just sitting there, she’s like this robot thing that can go through walls! Her name is technically M43-BR34K but nobody wanted to say that so we’ve all started calling her Mae. I can’t believe I know enough people that one of them already has a nickname I can use with others! Maybe I’ll get a cool nickname.*

*Right! Okay, sorry, I got distracted. I think my handwriting is messier than usual, too! I’m just so excited. I hid in my lab and cried a bit after everyone went to bed (they’re all staying at my house for now) because I was so excited.*

*Fuck! Got distracted again. Anyway I fixed Mae with some redstone all sciencey! She’s very literal, a lot like some of the characters in that Eyes Everywhere book I wrote about a couple days ago, or Peter from that one book about a thief with no eyes. It’s kind of hard to talk to her because of it (apparently I use a lot of metaphor, which I didn’t notice! When you talk to people they tell you things about yourself! I get to learn about me! Me! I don’t know anything about me!) but she likes learning and I like explaining. She called me cute and I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier to hear anything. It came out of someone else’s mouth (?) and it’s something I’ve never even said to myself alone before! Mae also doesn’t know where she came from so we’re kind of similar.*

*Okay, next is this Avian named Katzen! I know all that shit about Avians from that series of textbooks I found under my floorboards. They’re the really boring ones I wrote about two years and twenty-two days ago, I don’t know if you remember. I remember so much! I had a dream where I was forgetting, though. The more I was around people and doing things the more my past faded into the background. I already know so little about myself; is it worth it to lose more?*

*FUCK I GOT DISTRACTED AGAIN!*

*I know the most about Mae so these might be a bit short. Katzen’s very nice, they also thought they were the only person alive in the world which is ~~nice~~ ~~cool~~ relatable! Maybe we can bond over that, even if it’s sad. They’re kind of jumpy and a little melancholic but I like them SO MUCH!!!!*

*They get along with Tabris, this bee guy who believes in magic (stupid) and a wizard (double stupid) and kept talking about how I have something to do with it. MAGIC ISN’T REAL! It drives me so crazy. How can someone believe in something they can’t see? And before you go “what about gravity?” You can drop something. “What about molecular shit?” Microscope. You can’t see magic. It just takes someone’s hard work and pins in on sparkles and bullshit. Anyway, Tabris and I fought but called a truce. They said that nobody would want to be friends with me with how mean I am (in not so many words) and I was just thinking … am I mean? I’ve never been mean before because I’ve never had anyone to be mean to. Am I immediately going to lose everyone I just met? I have no many questions I want to punch the universe in the dick. Anyway, Tabris is talking about this prophecy and shit and going to find the wizard. Apparently he can give us things we’ve lost or whatever, I wasn’t listening because it’s horseshit. I’m not doing anything, though, so I’m going with them. I’ve become kind of a de facto leader but I think it’s just because I keep making demands of people to chill the fuck out.*

*Then there’s Shelly! Shelly also doesn’t believe in magic, which is validating. They eat rocks, though, so, take that with a grain of salt I guess. I like the way they look, they’re very pretty but also very small. I’m kind of worried they’re going to eat holes in my chimney. Anyhow, they also seem stupid at first glance but I think they know more than one might think.*

*I got these sick ass shoes, too. I found them in the weird glowy hole and they fit me like a glove. They’re bright red and basically incapable of getting dirty. They must be made of special, not-magic material.*

*We’re going to find the wizard now. I’m not scared because I think it’s stupid. I am scared because Tabris seems to think I’m important and I have no idea where to start.*

*Is it bad to be scared of these people I’ve been looking for all my life?*

*Goodbye,*

*Ozma the not-so-lonely*

## Trivia

* Frank is called so because Ozma intends to be 'frank' or honest with him, but also for L. Frank Baum, the author of The Wizard of Oz series.
* Ozma writes in cursive, but signs her name in plain text.
* When Ozma's diary is represented out of the game, it's written in two fonts: tipsygnostalgic and Black Jack.
* The font tipsygnostalgic is a rip of Roxy Lalonde's in-comic handwriting. Roxy likes wizards and various types of science.