A lot of my time in Bree I have spent stringing myself from man, to man. Perhaps looking for affection, or just a close friend that emotions got too high with, I do not know. I left with my brother to perhaps lean myself away from that, but even then I came running back to Aren. I suppose I could spend my time doing worse things, though.
I saw some woman in the Pony today, talking about how women are so weak and sensitive. And all I really thought was how pathetic it is, to want a man's attention to badly that you disgrace your own just to get him to laugh. Women are not weak and sensitive. I have seen a man cry just as I have seen a woman cry, and I have seen women go into battle alongside men. Perhaps women such as myself do long for a man's affections, but that does not make you weak, or sensitive. You cannot have a child if you are weak, and I know several men who wouldn't be able to do so.
I haven't been painting much lately. I suppose I've run out of things to paint. I've also been spending a lot of time caring for Cotton, who can walk now, thankfully. He follows me around everywhere, even when I go into town and he cries if I try to make him stay home, so I just stopped trying. And if caring about a wounded runt sheep makes me too sensitive, then I do not want to be anything else, because that is simply cruel, to me. I couldn't have just left it, and anyone who would is the weak one.
Aren and I went to the ruins above Starmere earlier today. It was gorgeous, over looking Bree. We swam a bit, but eventually headed back home, and he said he had to go speak with his uncle. It's odd, to finally meet someone else who cannot talk, but it's also strangely comforting, though I wish that it had never happened to him. While I may not wish I could talk, I think that he does, and that saddens me. Maybe he'll learn to be happy with how he is now, but I am not sure.
