Thoughts - 2

"Laughter. I have not known it until I came here. I only watched others laugh, but I would not understand why. Sometimes things would make me laugh... but I would not understand why. Sheer hate has driven me. So I laughed in... hate? And fear, perhaps. Gaining little fun I had in the loss of others." "As are with smiles. I would see others smile. But why did I? Out of compassion? Mostly in irony, longing. In dreams and wishes. In false joy or out of fear. The only time before I came here... I delighted in that fair harp." "So I am here now. I smile and I laugh. And it is like a dream, but it is real. I have joy, and I have it all the time. I am calm and I have no fear. I have no hate towards him. I feel his sweet words are true. So earnest, and thus I smile. And I laugh, not out of bitterness, but in joy. A waking dream..." "... and I wait it to end. I wait for me to awaken, not beside him. I wait for the moment he turns upon me, curses me, casts me away. I wait for the moment where he is gone, and all is as it should be..." "Why am I so glad? Why do I trust him so? So much that- ..." "He sees my scars. All of them. Every part of my torn self. And yet he calls me beautiful... And there is no mockery in his voice. No lie in his eyes. He says beautiful things... and I believe him, and I do not know why. I- ... I gave an oath. But I lost myself within it. And I have stepped beyond what I thought were my bounds more than once..." "Why do I care...?" "I care. I would deny it, but I- ... I do believe I care. So why is it? A feeling of... owing him something? Or... or this trust that I ... have for him. And the surprise whenever I am given something... and the joy that comes from it. I am given what I never have known before. Pleasure, joy, wealth. And he asks no price of it, save company. And company seems a low price, if it is I that gains most out of it... so is it selfishness then? I- ... no. I do not know." "I am safe... or no: I feel safe, though knowing I am not. I dare to jest, I dare to speak what I fear to speak. I may show my mind and my... sorrow. And my fear and my weakness. I am bound again, am I not? To yet another man..." "... But... he allows me to do all I please. He will not press me. I press myself, because I feel... I feel safe. And I shall tread in to my doom, as I have sworn. I have spoken of the harp, and of -he-, and of my hate, though too little for him to understand. I feel safe. And yet... there are things that are my thoughts alone. My secrets alone. My love and my hate alone... I feel safe. But not endlessly so. Far more than I had expected, and I surprise myself again and yet again... I feel safe. I tread in to my doom. But I shall not hasten it..." "I am doomed." "But such I knew long ago... And such I knew when I was sent. And such I knew when I gave my oath. And such I knew every time I spoke more than I intended..."