Comfort. It is a feeling I often seek to give to others, yet rarely find for myself.
So many times have I been told that my soft-spoken words are soothing, my serenity contagious and my presence comforting. I wonder if they would find me so were they ever to know that it is but a facade. Outwardly I smile, dispensing words of encouragement and supposed wisdom in equal measure, providing healing of the body and, in some cases, the mind and spirit as necessary whilst inside I am lost, alone and confused.
I comfort others as much as I can, but I do not allow them to comfort me. I do not allow them to know that I might be in need of it. I smile and wave away their concerns. I smile and change the subject back onto them. I smile and keep my distance whilst allowing an illusion of closeness. Even those who know me well fail to see the signs anymore. Is it because they no longer care to see, or because I have become so much more adept at concealing my thoughts and feelings?
I fear it is the latter and what that truth may reveal about me. Have I truly become so cold and closed that I can no longer allow anyone in? It is protection I suppose. When one has grown up knowing naught but pain, it is difficult to stop hurting and with each betrayal, each broken promise and untrue word, I find it ever more difficult to take the same risks again.
Theoger asked me today if I harbour even a single unselfish desire. He, like Cyfier, seems to see me as some shining beacon of light, a bastion of purity and hope, a symbol in which to place his faith. These two men see so much in me, but they do not realise what lies behind my act. Is it a sign of how far I have fallen that, without meaning to, I trick them into seeing what they wish to see instead of what is truly there?
I can only assume so, for have I not done the exact opposite with Davick? The only one who ever truly knew me, who ever truly understood me, and he is as blind to the truth as they. I do not want him to know, I do not want him to see and, luckily, his hatred for Vaenthal and preoccupation with Tillie have given me the perfect means by which to simply slip away.
Death-shadow lies heavy upon me, but it is not a death of the body. To the outside world I walk in light whilst inside I am crushed a little more each day by my isolation. This is the way it must be. This is what I must do.
I spend my days healing others whilst I, myself, remain broken.
