Dear diary, it brings me no joy to make this entry. However, I know I can't express my thoughts freely anywhere else. Ever since Raymond died I had this gnawing fear that I'd never find love of any kind again. Then I met Lycaon who I've known for a little less than a year. He says he loves me, but I don't know if I believe him. Do two broken people even remember what love feels like? I'm wondering if he's only staying with me so that I could 'heal' his turmoil. It's not the first time I've been used like this and I promised myself that I'd never let it happen again. But of course, the damnable compassion that I attempt, to hide so deeply. Surfaces when I see or hear any kind of suffering or trauma. Those tramps at the prancing pony would think otherwise. That I have not capacity to care for anyone other than myself. Perhaps it is better that they think this because then I can build my wall, higher. A wall that even they cannot climb.
I'm so tired, there are days where I just want to lie down and give up. Because no one seems to fully understand me or try to understand. But no I've come too far to give up and I owe everything to my beloved son. If it is one thing I learned from my Mother is that an Eorling never gives up. She does not fall on her knees, she dies standing, when the stars align and her time has come. I couldn't reach Lycaon yesterday, no matter how hard I tried. I found out that some woman before we started seeing each other. Broke him somehow.. played with his heart.
I wonder why he gave her that permission? Raymond was a strong man but he wasn't perfect. I don't expect Lycaon to be perfect, but I can't keep letting him drain me like this emotionally. I feel as if I've reached a fork in the road. I still find myself thinking of Him and I'm certain many other women are too. But with Audun at least I somewhat knew what to expect. He was and perhaps still is a rouge. An incredibly, charming rogue, with strangely a shred of decency. A softness for those lucky enough to actually earn his care. No matter how many times he left, I couldn't even bring myself to hate him. Perhaps that states just how insecure I am or that I'm simply raving mad. I don't know, I just don't know. I need to go to bed and I hope the same specters won't come to haunt me.
