Wait!

My previous entry was unfair. Not every person in the city is an ass, just about ninety percent of them.

I'm cranky.

I should really start dating these things.

Dear Diary, I Always Forget You're Here

I knew I shouldn't have bothered starting these things. My life is either awful or boring, sometimes both. Why do I want to keep a record of it?

I have nothing to write, except that whoever decided on the new costs for the permits is a giant asshole. Seriously, I hope he or she dies in a ditch; actually, I'd be willing to dig it and push him in.

Really, I'm not even so upset at the cost, even though it is outrageously high to the point of being akin to theft. What's worse is that I'm going to have to waste time tracking down some incredibly boring person to buy the permit from, and carry on some sort of moronic conversation with him or her. I'm sure whoever it is that I'll need to go to is a giant ass, just like almost everyone else in this town.

The Future Of Our Nation

Accepting applications for a new occupant of the throne? That's how it is to be decided who is going to run Seahaven? People can just apply? What an odd way to pick a leader. This country is not some tavern looking for a barkeep. I shudder to think who'll take over.

A nobleman I've gotten to know in the past few weeks would make an excellent king, I think. Of course, he doesn't think he's powerful enough to make a bid, and he's also smart enough to know ruling a nation probably wouldn't be the most enjoyable way of spending the rest of his days.

Of course I could be wrong about him. I've heard some rather disconcerting things about a couple of the nobles in this city, actually. Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised, but I am. Is there anyone in whom this nation can believe? I'm starting to wonder about everyone inside these walls. Who's worthy of my trust?

Making Plans For a Tomorrow I Don't Know Will Come

It's tough to have dreams when you don't know if they can ever come true. It's not that I don't have faith in myself; I guess I'm mostly worried the plague will never be cured despite all the rumors I've heard of a cure. I hear people complaining that the cure is going to cost a fortune and let's face it, I don't have one to spend.

Even if I do get my hands on the cure, though, what if I get infected again by someone who is still infected? What if too much damage has already been done to me? I fear my memory problems could be permanent, and perhaps it's just because I'm constantly exhausted, but I don't feel as sharp as I remember. What about the hallucinations? Will they go away when the plague does? When I'm public I do my best to ignore them and not show how much they impact my mental state. I can't pretend forever, and I can't live like this much longer.

Still, if things work out and I get better, it's totally possible that in six months or a year perhaps I could be in a really good spot. Business opportunities seem to be presenting themselves, and I feel like a different person somehow. I'm not sure what it means, but maybe I can put all the bad stuff behind me and finally move on with my life.

I Don't Know Who I Am

A funny thing happened the other day. I woke up from a long sleep, and found myself in a world I don't recognize. Apparently all these things happened, I met these people who are supposed to be important to me, and I'm completely different than the man I remember myself to be.

Apparently I'm trying to be good, make a difference, be social, have friends, connect with people. That's not the boy I remember.

I'm also sick. Even though I woke up when nobody thought I would, according to a nurse in the hospital, that doesn't mean that I won't die of this illness like apparently so many others have. Plus, my sister is sick! Mair! How many times did she protect me as a child? I probably wouldn't be here today if it weren't for her, and it's likely my fault she's as ill as she is. Apparently she sat my bed almost constantly while I sleeping.

I don't know what I've become, or what I'm supposed to be, but I do need to help her if I can.

And what of the woman who was becoming like a sister to me? She still is, it seems, but I've made her mad I think and I don't know how. Oh, I can't think about this right now. The rum I consumed is clouding my mind, and putting my thoughts to paper isn't helping me at all. What a stupid idea this was. A journal?

Do I have any other kind of idea?