This month post-contract has been both weird and kind of awesome. Ever since that close call off the Valparaiso coast, things have been different, and I’m talking more than just a lucky escape. Whatever saved me did more than just keep me alive—it flipped a switch. The little lights on my skin are becoming part of the daily view, a strange perk of surviving the deep.

Been diving into this new journey, literally, spending time in the water like never before. It feels like the ocean's literally in my blood, and I can sense a certain something growing—an edge, a bond, maybe even a bit of power. My eyes seem sharper, their watery hue catching more than they'd been ever able to see before.

So, this month? About digging into what's happening to me, testing boundaries gently without drawing too much attention. There's a heap of mystery to unravel, but honestly, what better adventure could I ask for? The ocean’s still calling, and right now, I feel like my journey with it is just gearing up. Onward and upward, or should I say, seaward.

Another month, another dive into the bizarre. Spent most of it holed up in my lighthouse, poring over those cryptic Peruvian documents like some caffeine-fueled archaeologist. The Black Bone Blade? Still creeps me the fuck out, but I can't deny its pull. It's like having a shark in your living room - terrifying, but you can't look away.

Been working on those weird movements I've been feeling. My old boxing stance is morphing into something... else. It's like my body's remembering something my brain never learned. Muscle memory from a past life? Or just the ocean whispering to my bones? Either way, it's making me antsy.

Took on a few small contracts to keep the lights on. Can't seem to shake the work even when I'm supposed to be resting. It's like being on call for the universe's weirdest emergency room. Not sure how I feel about that.

When it all got too heavy, I hit the waves. There's something about surfing that clears my head. Maybe it's the closest I get to dancing with the sea these days. Or maybe I'm just turning into a walking cliché. Who knows?

One thing's for sure - I'm changing. Whether it's for better or worse... jury's still out on that one. But hey, at least I'm never bored, right? ...Right?

Losing an arm's been a bitch, but the sea never abandons its own. It's like the ocean itself is watching my back. Projectiles slowing, blades changing course - at first, I thought I was hallucinating from pain meds, but nope. It's real, and it's a game-changer. Been working on honing it, with all the reverence the sea deserves. Still hit or miss, but when it works it really is something. Captain Vega would have a field day with this, calling all sorts of witch and shit.

One-armed or not, I'm not letting my family down. Hit the gym like a woman possessed. If I can't be two-armed, I'll be twice as fast and graceful as before. All this sneaking and investigating on contracts is paying off too. I'm getting stealthier by the day. Who knew a marine biologist would end up channeling her inner seal?

I'm still royaly pissed about the arm, don't get me wrong. But the sea's gifted me with something new, something powerful. I'd be a fool to dismiss it, but it does worry me somewhat.

Note to self: Call home. They deserve to know their little mermaid's still kicking ass, just with a few new tricks up her sleeve... er, singular sleeve.