Perhaps I am yet too old to keep a diary at a hundred years, but I must have someone to speak with... it does not seem there is anyone who can understand what I mean.
Life is truly unpredictable. Had I the chance to have been born human, I would have taken it.
I am not ungrateful of my culture... I admire it greatly and am proud (of IT, not myself) but I wish for more freedom than I am given. I mustn't act happy, lest I give the appearance of being informal, which I would die before doing. My true self burns inside of me... it pains me and it aches in myself as though if I continue acting so unfeeling, I'll end up drowning in my own bitterness.
I have refused Garnold's request to marry me, yet he wishes to remain friends. I keep in mind what two strong men told me at once, that he would not leave me alone until I accepted, or something of that nature. I believe I can handle myself, however.
There is still no sign of Regineth, my sister, and yet it seems to be better for me... although I knew what -not- to act like while she was here.
The other day, a hobbit approached me, informing me that a man was wondering if I were 'with someone' because he had seen me in the inn and wished to court me, apparently, though he was too worried to ask me himself, or something. I do wish he would come forward and let me know what I've gotten myself into, because I told the hobbit that I wasn't with anyone. Hopefully, no disturbing tale will spring from this... I am a little afraid of letting someone know I love them. I do not know if I would be able to keep myself from acting like my real self.
I must close now. Fare thee well... even though you do not fare at all...
~Laliniel Heniameleth
