I had a really nice night with Valrek.
I guess I’ll have to thank Nathan…
I had a nice night. Valrek’s a nice guy, but I’m not sure if I’m ready for this again.
Not that I don’t like him. I’m just afraid if this won’t work out. That, and he has a beard.
I’ve been charged by the Order with researching information about the Blue Dragonflight. Angry dragons who seem to now want to kill anything who even have traces of arcane magic. Fun times.
Kar’lei now leads the Syndicate of Secrets. Nothing suprising, really. Though I’m sure everyone expected Alkaiser to lead. But seeing as how he didn’t wish to lead after the Silverguard and the Shattered Phoenix both fell, it was inevitable that the position of leadership would change hands. Though, I could’ve been wrong. Like I had been about a lot of things. Like
Ras’ar and IAlkaiser and ICephyr and Imy lifeevery single fucking thing I seem to have encountered in my entire life.I’ve been quick to anger lately and I hate it. I hate feeling disgusted when I talk to certain people. I hate the fact my mouth keeps slipping and blurts out all the sharp and nasty words that I don’t want people to hear. I hate myself for bottling myself to the point where all this stuff is happening.
Maybe it all has to do with my mana crystals or something. Maybe my enchanting materials have come into contact with them and have been tainting the crystals or something.
Or maybe I am just fed up with every damn thing. I think I’ve lost the ability to feel disappointed. Either that or disgust has been showing up where ‘disappointment’ is supposed to be.
Fuck it all.
A small drawing appears here and under it, a small block of text is scrawled. It has little to do with the picture, however.
“What’s on your mind?” I wish people would stop asking me that. Every time I hear that goddamn question, my mouth is almost too quick for me to catch and seal up nice and tight.
I’m worried that I’m wrong about everything I once believed in. I’m worried that I’m obsolete and will be replaced. I’m worried that all my romantic relationships in the past are a(n) precursor/omen as to how the rest of my life will be. I’m worried that I’ll end up killing myself soon.
I’m worried my emotions’ll make me explode like an engineering machine. Haha. The irony.
Filed under: reflection
Another person sacrificed himself for the Lich King today in the middle of Silvermoon’s Royal Exchange. I don’t quite understand it myself, why so many people have been proclaiming ‘Glory for the Lich King’ and whatnot. Mostly Sin’Dorei, too. It’s quite unnerving. But to be perfectly honest, I’ve grown numb to it and I think most of Silvermoon has, too.
It feel nice – almost refreshing – to have grown numb to something. I don’t care, and the feeling of such takes such a heavy weight off of one’s shoulders.
If only I could become numb to everything. Things would be so much easier.
A large gap of blank space is seen without text. Finally at the bottom of the page, a single line is written in hasty lettering.
I wouldn’t have to feel betrayed by everyone and everything.
I’ve been having terrifying dreams lately – the kind that always seem to wake me in cold sweats. I hadn’t had dreams in a while, since my mind’s rarely place itself in the position where I can rest easily. For the first time in weeks, it seems, I’ve finally been able to sleep for more than 3 or 4 hours at a time. I should’ve known the good couldn’t have lasted too long.
I dreamed that I was destroying everyone around me. I was enraged, crazy for blood, even and at the same time, I felt elated and happy that I was killing. It was terrifying, especially since it felt as if I’d actually experienced such hate and anger before. I was skulking around the Keep, blasting the minds of everyone who crossed my path. There was another me, as well, following all the while, and whispering words that only seemed to fuel my rage even more. She’d follow me, and with every person I’d killed, she’d stab the bodies with daggers that had paper hearts taped to their hilts. Each and every heart had a name written on it: mine.
I don’t know what this means, but I think it’s a premonition… Something’s bad’s going to happen. I can almost feel it.
Verrin and I finally got to talking last night. I was right. It was about Mazikeen. But there was a bit more to it than just talking about their break-up and how Verrin
still loved her and all thatwas a bit conflicted on why they parted ways. “She thinks I’m a liability,” he said. I didn’t know what to say.What the hell was I supposed to saYes, you arNo, you’re no-I was no help at all – I told him what mattered most was what he thought, and apparently he didn’t know how he was supposed to think and feel either. People have been talking to him, apparently. Some say for him to ‘walk on his own’ while others say that he needs to ‘lean on me’.I find it all stupid, really.We eventually got on the subject of feeling lost – how the feeling of not knowing what to live for anymore kind of makes one feel so insignificant. “I used to live for revenge. Then I lived for Mazikeen.”
Why am I the one who always listens and be reminded of how happy people were when it comes to love?I honestly don’t remember what my purpose was. Did I ever really have one?Why did I ever join the Silverguard? “Because it seems fun.” At least, that’s what I first told Arathael when I filled out the application. I joined on a whim. I didn’t expect them to take me in. I had no abilities for combat, I had no military background. It was pity, I’m sure. I existed to help and heal those wounded. And I did do so, for a while.
But after my absence and coming back, I can’t help but feel like I’m no longer needed; my purpose has gone away and has been taken up by some other person, Miss Tamrin. They all managed fine without me those several weeks I was away. Why? Because Miss Tamrin was there to take my place. Her potential for healing… It’s much better than mine. I think I’ve gotten as ‘powerful’ as I can be. Whereas
she’s much more of what the Syndicatshe has much more room to grow and become stronger. I can’t compare. I’ve become obsolete.I told Verrin this, and he said that we’ll all experience the feeling of wondering whether or not we’re obsolete. Younger generations will grow and become stronger – stronger than we are, perhaps – and we’ll be the ones that need to teach them. I have nothing to teach them – no wisdom to pass along other than, ‘Don’t make the same mistakes I did’. And even that’s a bit too
embarassingdepressing to say. “I don’t feel needed anymore,” I told him.“I need you – not for your power. But for your support.” Those words made me a little happier, but the dread feeling came back and sucked that away. There are better listeners than me. Ones with better opinions and guidance than I can offer.
I feel so useless.
Filed under: Alkaiser, doubts, heartache, Mazikeen, reflection, Silvermoon
This small entry is hastily scratched below the one above it, the penmanship is much shakier than usual, as if the writer was using a great deal of control and force over the quill. A few wet dots splatter here and there on the page, wrinkling the paper slightly while leaving watermarks.
I don’t know how to think, speak, or feel anymore. I should be happy for them, right? I should be happy that they both found what they’ve wanted this whole time. They’re my friends, aren’t they? I should be happy for them.
I should be happy for them.
But I’m not.
Every time I look at either of them, my stomach churns and I feel sick and nauseated. I’m not happy for them like I’m supposed to be. I’m angry and hurt. I feel like screaming, crying, exploding. I feel like I’m barely holding myself back from doing something I know I’ll regret. I feel betrayed. I hate feeling this way.
I don’t know who I can talk to… and whether or not I’ll be able to talk about it at all. I’m sick of being the mute victim.
I wish everything just went back to the way they were originally.
Filed under: reflection
This journal has seen much wear and tear – many of the pages have fallen out, several entries missing entirely or burned to the point where the whole text is intelligible. The leather covers binding the book also have been singed, leaving the pages beneath them able to be seen through the burn holes. This journal is falling apart, piece by piece, and is held together with little more than coarse thread binding all the pages together.
So much has happened these past few months. So much that I feel as if I can’t put them all into words on paper. Most of the memories I’ve formed I do not wish to forget, but with each happy memory seem to come several more bad ones – the ones I don’t want to remember, don’t want people to see… the ones I wish I could forget the most.
I wish I’d loved them all enough to have been able to stay by their side.
Loving someone never hurt so much.The heartache’s almost unbearable. I feel used. I feel cheated. I can’t easily forgive him…
…and yet I still love him nonetheless.
Should anyone realize this, they’re bound to laugh and hate me. I don’t learn my lessons well enough.
The others carry themselves and treat me as if nothing’s happened… I don’t know how to feel. I can’t quite accuse them of not caring about his death; it wouldn’t be fair, and I don’t think that my own feelings would allow it. It’s too hurtful. I don’t think half of them know what happened anyhow…
Before he died, Ras’Ar asked me to marry him… I should’ve said yes. I should’ve gone with him, even if he didn’t want me to. I shouldn’t have left him to deal with his past on his own… But it’s too late to regret my own inactions. I only wish I could’ve done something to stop all this. What good is the power to heal if I can’t even save the people I love and care about?! I can’t help but feel like I’m not fit to be here. I’m not fit to call myself a ‘healer’. I’m beginning to question my own usefulness in the Guard.
I don’t know if it’s fear of losing it or people misunderstanding, but I’ve chosen to wear the ring Ras’Ar gave me on the same chain as the necklace he gave me a while ago. It’s kind of hard to fight back my tears when I think back to what’s hanging around my neck; I can’t let go of these memories. The guilt’s almost overwhelming.
The shadows seem to creep nearer and nearer with each passing day. This evil haze feels the same as when I was under the manipulation of Master Xydin. Though I’ve left the darkness and refuse to look it, my denial does not banish it away. I don’t want the shadows to take over again; I don’t want experience such terror and sadness again.
