As I sit here in my chair drinking of mead with the windows of my home wide open in the midst of summer. I have come to a startling realization.
One of the main reasons that I have been engulfed with this identity crisis of mine. Conflicting narratives crashing against each other, is you. Infernal book, I had buried the murder of one of my best friend's deep within the confines of my mind. I had moved on. But ever since I wrote of it. The knowledge of it has burrowed out, the acknowledgement of it. And it is not keen on returning.
Ever since I started writing in greater depth, I have had this creeping paranoia that someone else would be reading my words. Then that extended to my thoughts.
I wish I could put an end to these nightmares, The voices. The urges to kill. I did not ask for them, I did not wish for them. I perhaps made a mistake in telling anyone else apart from flower.
I never thought I would find someone who would accept me for who I am again, I still think about the Rat I recently loved sometimes. Named as such because it was used as an insult from her origins in Beggar's Alley she came to use it as a badge of honour. Whom I killed for. Whom ultimately I abandoned through fear. Though, I can not discuss her with flower. I am loathe to mention other women if I can help it given my past.
My thoughts return to more mundane matters. The throbbing pain in my shoulder. It will prove problematic for my duties. I suppose I should use this opportunity to get my accounts in order. I have a business to run still. I ran foul of a particularly irksome individual called 'Del' and managed to subdue him. There was a hefty price on his head and the man would not see reason even when all odds were against him. But he still managed to pierce me with his blade before I took him down. I am angry with myself, I am angry when I am sloppy and when I slip. I know this will put me out of action for further contracts as I can barely move my bloody arm let alone wield a shield.
Rum, the one source of comfort of my life through all else will nurse me back to sanity, Surely.
I decided to pay the rent on flower's new muse in life. It will be a relief off my mind that she is no longer consorting with dangerous men who would do her harm. I'm also willing to provide some further financial backing in exchange for a stake in this business.
Yet I also think of lending my ability in creative ways, Not to sound too self-deprecating as I am taking this oh so seriously but I should think I'd make a good tragic actor. We had a discussion at length and it was mentioned but I gave no inclination overtly. The penalty for fluffing my lines usually is suspicion directed towards my activities and potentially death. I have been forced to act therefore do not have much enthusiasm for the proposition.
I am not sure how I can even be the real me so what difference would performing make over my day to day existence?
The lost boy I once was is so far gone, so deep within. I banished him because he was not well-equipped to deal with the realities of this world. I assume he is still not. He is vulnerable and he is alone. Or at least frightened of being alone. That is why I have buried him so deep.
I told my love of a murder I had committed in great detail, I think I thought she would run. I hoped. But it rather had the opposite effect. She does not seem even remotely frightened of the beast within me. Come what may. I must get these wagons out on the road again even without me.
Get back out there and mingle. Maintain some of my contacts. Keep the coin rolling in. Trading, shipping goods and services. I ran a successful and professional courier service before. I am good at earning coin. Even though I have little use for it. It's something to do I suppose. Perhaps I should open an Inn, I have had one or two ideas floating around my head in the past. You do remember you are still in a mercenary company do you not, I suppose these ventures can co-exist but do I necessarily want to find myself on contracts guarding rival shipping. I could employ the Dawn on these ventures I suppose. There is more than one route to go down. Your heart has been ruling over your head. Whatever will you decide to be this next week. And will it ever be enough.
