There are days where I think I can make sense of everything. "Lena how many times do I have to tell you? You're wrong. Bloody wrong! I've seen the world for what it is. You haven't how can I put an end to your naivety? It will be your downfall child." That's what Father would say when he had spent far too many hours in his 'research' or when he returned from one of his yearly relic gatherings.
Is my idealism such a terrible thing? Why cannot I be accepted for who I am? But then again who am I really? Only sixteen summers and I'm something of a philosopher. Or am I just as mad as my Father? Why can't anything be simple right now? I'm lost so lost.
