Page from a worn Journal I



I must admit that I have not written for a long time. Perhaps it was the foolish thought I no longer needed to, or that I have been afraid that someone would ever come to read this.
Yet, here we are again. Back to nothing, to nothing it always is. But, I do not know what to write about, though the desire to does not leave. Is it a way to calm my mind, maybe for once without the need of booze? I do not know, it does not seem to work for I am sat right now with a trusty old bottle in my other hand. Maybe I do know what to write about but is it something I have been avoiding to even think about for too long already.

There have been some who have told me that writing down my thoughts on paper might help me to work through things I otherwise would avoid working out. But, is it so wrong to wish nothing ever changed? Why is it that these people expect me to just forget about everything that has happened.. Yes, I have forgotten much of the past by the help of a few good blunts to the head and the alcohol I seem to so desperately need, but why is it that that which I wish to forget seems to be on my mind so vividly?

Because I do not wish to forget.. I do not wish to forget that what is killing me each and every single day, no matter how much of it gets piled on and on throughout the years. Is it wrong of me, that I do not wish to forget the faces of those who have died? Those who have passed, because of me?
Why the men look up to me, call me their Captain.. I do not know. I have never wished for any of this, this life.. That is a lie, I did wish for this once until I had lost Ërillea.. but after that? The Oath had already been taken, there is no way back without feeling naught but guilt. More guilt than I already bear with me.

The wild desire of death ever so strongly, and yet I must not die. I had promised her this, to not do this to myself. But how much is a life such as mine worth, when the person living it has been dead inside for this long of a time? Yes, I can smile and I can care. But only some will ever see this, and most will never believe this. Then, some.. those who believe I'm a strong man, a man of power and a man who has it all together.. Sometimes I wish they would see me cry, that they would see how I have been torturing myself all of my life..-But I know they would not care, they would not understand that what goes on in my mind. They do not understand how I can easily go from standing tall, to crying throughout the night in a far away corner of the woods.

Ayla.. Ayla she tried to understand, and Gethann did too.. But they aren't me, they never knew how I could snap just like that. How one look, or one word could bring me down to my knees in heartache. It never was their fault, no one's fault but my own.

Faults.. wrongdoings.. That is what I am the Captain of. The one thing I certainly am good at, would be that.. Maybe in time I will learn to stay away from people, so they will not be harmed by my mind anymore.
I should not have started to write, for my mind once again does not know to focus on one thing. I should be keeping all this to myself, as always. Not even the pages nor I will ever understand..