Hey there Mr. Journal. You must be wondering why I'm writing in you so soon again. Well, I have nothing to do right now, I'm sitting beside the road still with my foot burning so bad I can't walk. I tried walking home, but I didn't make it very far. I don't think what that strange man did helped anything, it's still swollen and every time I step on it I feel jolts of pain. I don't think I can handle standing up and walking anytime soon either, I was hoping someone would have come by and found me, though I'm not surprised most can't see me. Especially now that darkness is starting to. If I could, I'd climb this tree behind me and sleep in it, but I can't do that with my wounds. So I suppose I'll sit here and watch the road through the night.
Mr. Journal, can you be my friend? I don't know what it is, but whenever someone tries to talk to me I feel like snarling back. Makes it hard to have friends. But I don't snarl at you, so will you be my friend? It would be nice if you would, less lonely. I think I can't handle going back to that tavern place. People all sit around at tables and talk and laugh and I just feel jealous because I know with my mask on people won't trust me. Yet if I take my mask off, they probably wouldn't want to sit with me anyway. All the people who use to tell me they didn't mind rarely talk to me anymore, if they talk to me at all.
That's probably why you're a good friend, you can't even see my face, Mr. Journal. It can't scare you off. Although, you can't talk back either... or breathe. Ah, now I'm sounding like a stupid little girl. Talking to a chunk of paper and leather like it's a living thing. I wish you were, but you're not. That's probably another reason people wouldn't like me, I'm illogical too. I don't make sense, or pick up on social things. Spent too many years in isolation for that. Have I ever told you about that? It was almost 15 years before I saw another human, and even after that I scarcely revealed myself. It was after that 15 years I met Forgoil too.
Before that I had a family, well I had a sister and a small tribe I called family. Never knew what happened to them. I loved my sister, but ah well. Everyone disappears at someday. I should just get over it I suppose, just like I should just get over my fear of loosing Forgoil. I spent 15 years alone, I should be use to it. Used to defending myself alone, feeding myself alone, cleaning my island alone. It's not hard, and in fact it's a bit easier. I don't deal with nagging or anything like that. But it's alone.
Anyways, sorry Mr. Journal. You probably want me to stop now. And it's getting a bit too dark to see anyway. I suppose I'll talk to you another day. Until then, be safe.
