A Leathery Journal

Well here is a bastard I have not seen in ages on end, it must have been months since last we two spoke. You were surprisingly dusty, but then again if you were not, I would have been suspicious that someone had read you. Woe to the both of us if someone did, huh, lad? Hah...

I do not know if you know this, book, but I come from Beggar's Alley. The part of town where no one wishes to be from. Shit staining the streets and the lowlife of all town would meet here. I would run errands for them for coin, which I would give to my mother when I got home, and at twelve, I was on my own.

Here we are again my little leathery bastard, you are one of the few things I kept when moving and I have no idea why... Funny thing, is it not?

I don't know what to write. I don't know why I even keep this damned book. It is only a reminder of bad decisions from the past.

So is this really what it all has come down to... My sanity kept in a little brown leather book. I must have lost the last remnants of my sanity if this is truly the path I want to take, yet I do feel it helps me. How? Well... if all my thoughts are on paper, then they might not be in my head all the time.