I was passed out in a bush with blood all over. I’m surprised he could even find me. Oh wait, maybe I should slow down, I’ve never written in you Mr. Journal. Therefore, I’ve had issues with people on my island recently. They pushed me out and I had to go to Bree, of all places. I hate going that town, between the people complaining about foreigners and the others who call me a criminal just because I wear a mask. I wish they weren’t so judgmental, I feel a gut wrenching feeling when people see my face, the burns, and the monstrous appearance that is my face. Even when I’ve been called beautiful, I still cannot say that I believe it. If I was, would more than one person care for me? Although to be fair, I do not give anyone much of a chance for that. I run away from people, hide my face, cut out others when they try to get close.
Anyways, I’m rambling, back to the point, I had to go to Bree for a little while. Told a friend of my issues and he said he’d help. But eh, I’m impatient. Kind of a big flaw of mine, and I went to the island myself. Ha, was a big mistake. Ended up on the shore covered in blood, silly me. That friend came by; see where my impatience proves to be a moron? The same friend who promised me he’d help me. Was late just a few hours, I should have waited I suppose. Oh well, he went to the island. I’m not quite sure what exactly happened, but there were arms and legs scattered about, and pools of blood. I have a feeling he lost it, just saying.
The smell was intense, so much blood and death. It gagged me. He passed out though, and I tended to the little cut he had on his side… well, when I say little, it wasn’t deep enough to kill him. I fell asleep beside him surrounded by the blood, and when I woke up I almost vomited for how much worst it got. He was gone, probably got sick of it too. When I got back to the Pony, there he was drunk and giggly. Ah well, I suppose this is a way I can pay him back. I got on top of Pug and helped him back to his house. Mostly because I thought, he needs a bed, not a camp. None of his words made much sense, most telling me to do this and that. Take off my boots Zoey, Mush Zoey, and Shush Zoey. He’s interesting drunk, and giggly too, but very bossy.
However, it was amusing nonetheless, and I was happy to tuck him into bed. I suppose that’s what friends do, not that I have many. They are there when you need them and you’re there when they need you. I don’t do friends well, I live in isolation, and my life is isolation. I’ve tried the friend thing before, and it hurt. I also got my heart broken, but it’s so lonely. No friends, no family. When I was bleeding in the bush, I thought I was going to die without anyone noticing. Even that one friend I did have doesn’t notice when I disappear because of the fact I isolate myself so much.
Perhaps I should try coming into Bree more. However, the Bree-landers are becoming so unwelcoming it seems. In addition, I doubt many would care for something like me. I’m a monster.
I should go; I have to get some rest and my hand is sore from writing so much.
