I Found A Journal Entry Written by Future Me

I found a journal in my apartment that shouldn't exist.

The black leather notebook waiting on my kitchen table belonged to me-or at least it will. I saw it in a bookstore days ago but never bought it.

Now it's here.

Filled with entries written in my handwriting.

Entries that describe things before they happen.

At first, the journal only predicts small things: conversations, movements, thoughts I haven't spoken aloud yet. But the deeper I read, the darker the entries become.

Warnings.
Missing time.
A stranger wearing my face standing outside my apartment.

And every page seems obsessed with one specific time:

11:14 p.m.

Because according to the journal, that's when everything begins.

Now I'm trapped between two impossible questions:

Who wrote this journal?

And why does future me sound terrified of what's coming?