The Enochian sigils inscribed on my body are the key to my ailment. This I know, and have known. While they are not the cause, they did appear at the same time that I...assumed my current role. Thus, these sigils must have some important role to play in explaining my condition.
The others...Michael, Gabriel, Uriel...They disagree for one reason or another. But it is unimportant. They cannot stop me from examining what I must, any more than I can stop them from pursuing their varied interests while they are in control. Indeed, it is just this fragmentation of control and mastership that I seek to repair. One cannot function as a fragmented being. One must have mastership over one's self.
I do acknowledge that I, myself, might be a product of the same event which caused the sigils' appearance. As much as I find it unlikely, it is, indeed, a possibility that my own self is simply another fragmented shard of what was once a unified whole. But it is no matter. I am here now, and I will repair myself, and I will gain mastership over myself.
Hence, an examination of the sigils. I have not learned much, of course. They are written in the Enochian script, and I have yet to find a text with which to decipher it. But I have noted some interesting qualities. For one, the skin which has been stained with the letters is indistinguishable from the skin around it. Whatever caused the sigils to rise left absolutely no physical mark upon my body, besides the letters' actual appearance. Furthermore, in my attempts to catalogue the sigils into a journal, I discovered two items of note. One is that any text I inscribed the sigils upon would soon be destroyed, in some means or another, whether it was an accidental tipping of a bottle of ink, or a wind blowing it out the window and into a gas lantern across the street. The other discover is much more disheartening. It appears that the sigils on my body...are changing. How and to what purpose, I do not know. I observed myself for hours on end, while I was in control, and they did not appear to change. But when next I was in command of myself, the sigils seemed to be in a much different pattern than before.
Alas, this may be a fruitless course of inquiry. Though I am sure of the importance of the sigils, I have no way of deciphering them without a key, or an individual who would have such knowledge. Perhaps there are other ways to undo whatever strange event befell me. But I know not what they are.
I shall continue to search for an answer whenever it is mine to do so. Let the others waste their time observing those insipid temporal travelers. All of them broken individuals, none of them with even a hint of an idea of how to repair themselves. Utter wastes. I will spend my time on much more fruitful tasks.