That knot slowly growing in his stomach begins to unwind, grateful that he hadn't done anything too regrettable during his last time here, but he despises not remembering. There's a cold grip of panic when it comes to the lack of memory, but then something occurs to him. "My journal," he says, eyes widening as the epiphany hits. "I would have written in a journal, at least once or twice per week. Did I do anything like that?"