Dear Diary 11
February 16th 2009 19:17
Dear Diary,
Yesterday was a horrible dream; I woke from nightmares I could not believe I was having, shocked and scared. Wondering if I would live or die. Afraid that this was the day that Those Who Are would come for me, to give me the punishment I know I deserve.
But they did not come, though I waited and watched, and in silence I counted the seconds which I survived. Counting the seconds grew old; someday everything grows old, I suppose. Finally I crawled to my desk, still covered in the cold sweat of my fear. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and then another, and finally had the courage to light the candles on my desk.
Those Who Are had not been standing, hiding in the shadows as I had feared. There was nothing to fear, yet my heart still raced. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the warmth and the light from the candles hit my eyelids. I calmed myself, and then I pulled out this diary.
The calm that I experienced did not last more than a moment as I began writing, in a frenzy, at the point of emotional collapse. Deep breaths, I told myself. Deep breaths. I wrote many things I did not mean, many things. I have nothing to say for the words that were written except that they were written in a moment of fear. I have never been so afraid as I was in the darkness yesterday. I did not wake during the day, but long after the sun was down. I am grateful I did not have to go to council either today or yesterday, for I am not sure I could have handled it.
But now I am coming back into my calmness. The dreams did not return when I last slept, and the frenzied fear seems gone now. It was just a passing moment-hour, two hours-of weakness. We all have them now and then, mine was just worse.
Deep breaths, I told myself. Deep breaths... But now all that is over, thankfully. I am strong again, though I am still a little shaky from the last day's events. I don't really know what to think of all of this. It all seems like too much. I close my eyes and I dream of darkness. I dream of light, too, but the darkness is more apparent.
I need to stop thinking about him like that. I need to swallow my fear, I need to destroy it; I need to cleanse it. I must become stronger, strong enough to challenge him, strong enough to defeat him. For if we do not emerge victorious, we will not emerge at all.
Those Who Are haunt me. I am afraid they will come, and amazed that they have not yet punished me or any of the others. It would seem that their sense of justice is not working at this moment in time, this crucial juncture. And I am grateful for that; if Those Who Are wanted to, they would make sure I did not have a chance to redeem myself. But this is my chance, and I must take it to my advantage. I must use it.
There must be a way that I can redeem myself for all that has been done and said, and yet the past eats away at my soul and tells me that I am weak. That I am monstrous. That I am nothing, nothing at all. My past tells me that I am a failure, but the present tells me I have one last chance. In this war I can redeem myself, and that is what I must do. For if I do not redeem myself, Those Who Are will come for me, and that will not be pleasant.
My people are ashamed of me, I can feel it. I can see it and hear it in all of their words. But I am trying to help them, I really am. As Goddess of Death it is not easy to help them stay alive. I fight off plague, I have fought off famine until I could no longer fight it. I bring death to our enemies on the battlefield. My people are out there fighting for the world they know and love. Their capabilities on the battlefield is what has kept this war going, what has allowed us to come close to victory. Soon we will reach the end, and soon we will be truly victorious.
I wish that I could comfort my people and that they would forgive me, but in my heart I know that they never really will. Those who are devoted remain devoted; the Drakor know the truth and have forgiven me, but the humans of Appollinia seem to be deeply shaken in their faith. I can see there is less worship in my temples and more angry cursing. It makes my heart ache.
I am sorry, to all my people, I am so very sorry that all of this came to pass. I am trying everything I can think of, everything in my power to make this war end. I am trying so hard to bring peace to this world, trying so hard. It will come. I pray that I will have peace.
I am working towards peace, working towards the day my people can eat well and walk the streets with no fear. The day my people do not curse me, the day that Appollinia honours me as they used to. I love my people, all the peoples of Appollinia; but this is not clear to them. They see only the physical proof, the dying men and women and children. They do not see my tears each night as I feel more and more souls slipping away.
This cannot go on much more. The people cannot take it. And after yesterday I have come to realize that neither can I.
~Astarael
Yesterday was a horrible dream; I woke from nightmares I could not believe I was having, shocked and scared. Wondering if I would live or die. Afraid that this was the day that Those Who Are would come for me, to give me the punishment I know I deserve.
But they did not come, though I waited and watched, and in silence I counted the seconds which I survived. Counting the seconds grew old; someday everything grows old, I suppose. Finally I crawled to my desk, still covered in the cold sweat of my fear. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and then another, and finally had the courage to light the candles on my desk.
Those Who Are had not been standing, hiding in the shadows as I had feared. There was nothing to fear, yet my heart still raced. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the warmth and the light from the candles hit my eyelids. I calmed myself, and then I pulled out this diary.
The calm that I experienced did not last more than a moment as I began writing, in a frenzy, at the point of emotional collapse. Deep breaths, I told myself. Deep breaths. I wrote many things I did not mean, many things. I have nothing to say for the words that were written except that they were written in a moment of fear. I have never been so afraid as I was in the darkness yesterday. I did not wake during the day, but long after the sun was down. I am grateful I did not have to go to council either today or yesterday, for I am not sure I could have handled it.
But now I am coming back into my calmness. The dreams did not return when I last slept, and the frenzied fear seems gone now. It was just a passing moment-hour, two hours-of weakness. We all have them now and then, mine was just worse.
Deep breaths, I told myself. Deep breaths... But now all that is over, thankfully. I am strong again, though I am still a little shaky from the last day's events. I don't really know what to think of all of this. It all seems like too much. I close my eyes and I dream of darkness. I dream of light, too, but the darkness is more apparent.
I need to stop thinking about him like that. I need to swallow my fear, I need to destroy it; I need to cleanse it. I must become stronger, strong enough to challenge him, strong enough to defeat him. For if we do not emerge victorious, we will not emerge at all.
Those Who Are haunt me. I am afraid they will come, and amazed that they have not yet punished me or any of the others. It would seem that their sense of justice is not working at this moment in time, this crucial juncture. And I am grateful for that; if Those Who Are wanted to, they would make sure I did not have a chance to redeem myself. But this is my chance, and I must take it to my advantage. I must use it.
There must be a way that I can redeem myself for all that has been done and said, and yet the past eats away at my soul and tells me that I am weak. That I am monstrous. That I am nothing, nothing at all. My past tells me that I am a failure, but the present tells me I have one last chance. In this war I can redeem myself, and that is what I must do. For if I do not redeem myself, Those Who Are will come for me, and that will not be pleasant.
My people are ashamed of me, I can feel it. I can see it and hear it in all of their words. But I am trying to help them, I really am. As Goddess of Death it is not easy to help them stay alive. I fight off plague, I have fought off famine until I could no longer fight it. I bring death to our enemies on the battlefield. My people are out there fighting for the world they know and love. Their capabilities on the battlefield is what has kept this war going, what has allowed us to come close to victory. Soon we will reach the end, and soon we will be truly victorious.
I wish that I could comfort my people and that they would forgive me, but in my heart I know that they never really will. Those who are devoted remain devoted; the Drakor know the truth and have forgiven me, but the humans of Appollinia seem to be deeply shaken in their faith. I can see there is less worship in my temples and more angry cursing. It makes my heart ache.
I am sorry, to all my people, I am so very sorry that all of this came to pass. I am trying everything I can think of, everything in my power to make this war end. I am trying so hard to bring peace to this world, trying so hard. It will come. I pray that I will have peace.
I am working towards peace, working towards the day my people can eat well and walk the streets with no fear. The day my people do not curse me, the day that Appollinia honours me as they used to. I love my people, all the peoples of Appollinia; but this is not clear to them. They see only the physical proof, the dying men and women and children. They do not see my tears each night as I feel more and more souls slipping away.
This cannot go on much more. The people cannot take it. And after yesterday I have come to realize that neither can I.
~Astarael
| 46 |
| Vote |
Add To: 
