Brynleigh

Yesterday was blessedly peaceful and quiet, free of trouble and tragedy. If only more days could be so. 

I'm beyond words at how I feel right now. Someone who I thought I loved seems to have lied and betrayed me, thus I ousted him from my live. It hurts. I suppose it was nothing more than carnal lust.
My heart yearns for the love I lost, which seems to not have existed in the first place it seems. I must move on, now my thoughts drift back to Brynleigh. I wonder how she is doing right now... She is happy, in a much better place than I am.

The days go by, the celebration of the Captain's daughter and her Dalesman draws closer. I am certain this occasion will fill my coffers just nicely if it goes as planned.

I've gotten off to a rather slow start today. Blame it on that big, cuddly prospector. I lose all sense of time when we are together. 

Together, or not at all.

The words run through Arenborn Kolten’s mind. They blot out most of his thoughts, distracting him from all but the soft fingers locked with his, the fiery red hair resting against his shoulder, and the familiar scent of Inayat, like long grass in the wind.

(The page is scattered with small, intricate drawings of flower's and people's faces, the doctor's cramped, loopy writing squished in around these doodles)
I am not exactly a man for these written nuances, but I thought it be wise to pour my thoughts and desires into a journal afore I do something foolish. Though I mourn ever so slightly that my sketchbook is becoming a journal and a sketchbook now, ah well, such is life.

*The text is written poorly with many spelling errors*

Dear journal

I must have been a child still when I last wrote in you but with all that has happened I have to let my thoughts out somewhere even if I feel a bit sick.