Pocket Journal entry Nineteen, "Thoughts"

I've spent roughly fourteen years living life as a solo act brigand, a nobody from nowhere. I lived off of copper, potatoes, bread, cabbage, and whatever meat I could hunt. I robbed people with more than me, which wasn't hard since there weren't many people with less. I briefly came to power, became infamous over night. My skills as a thief, a killer, both grew tremendously. Banditry flowed as if it was the way things were meant to be. I came to power. With the organization I had, I could have had Eriador at my fingertips. It seemed a dream, but when I finally reached my goal it became a nightmare. I didn't want to continue on with that life. I had lived every day paranoid, that the next would see the hangman's noose, or headsman's axe. At that point it became a true possibility. I have killed people, most of which I regret. All but one I regret really. But for what cause? To continue stealing? That's why I had to change - that life, despite my thoughts, was never meant to me. The shadow blades saw this before I did, pulled me out of it. Now look at me. I have wealth, I'm under the arm of the captain of the guardians, Caravaggio, I own a property off in the woods, I own more than I need in fact. Why do people choose to be a lowlife? And, I think lowlife is not an insult, more of an evaluation. They are living their life on the low end of things, it is factual. I think I will do my best to start turning my former allies, the underbelly of Bree, over into a better life. Or try to, at the very least. Interesting how things change so quickly.. I'm wearing a dress right now for the sake of getting used to them, I have been at more parties than pubs recently.