10-9-363
Years ago, when I was young and handsome, Marisa and I used to joke I had a golden tongue; mere silver couldn’t possibly account for my powers of charm and persuasion. These days I think my tongue a baser metal. Perhaps steel, sharpened by loneliness and tempered in pain. Certainly it seems to cut deeply enough, and has lost all memory of days when it flattered and cheered instead.
Rain, Casimir; those I want for friends think I hate them, because I cannot seem to withhold my venom. I seem to make Cellan cry half the time I see her. I even snapped at Tomas, whose mild and understanding disposition rarely gives me the slightest offense (imagined or otherwise) to quibble with. And that innocent Courtland girl, all good intentions, roundly mocked by my cynicism. Not to mention the political missteps I have made by being too harsh, too cutting, when diplomacy would have served me far better. I have attempted to repair matters with His Holiness, but I expect his pride will never truly forgive my harshness even if he now trusts my sense enough to seek my counsel. Two years ago I would have never-
Many times in the last dozen years I have feared myself in danger of losing my mind, but now more than ever it feels an imminent possibility. I am so lonely and so frustrated; I awake with my jaw aching from the grinding of my teeth at night. Joy is gone, simply gone, but for the children and for the few bright moments with my friends not tarnished by my own choleric or melancholy behavior. I told myself I had accepted matters, but I am beginning to fear I cannot go on like this.
Lord, I am so ungrateful. I am blessed with so many things, just as Casimir said. Why can I not be simply content? The pains I contend with are less than many others; I yet live, there are many activities not lost to me. But rage at myself as I might, I face the truth – no amount of ‘should’ can change what is.
Still… how long have I excused myself by saying that I could not change? Perhaps that is merely a comfortable defense to shelter behind. Perhaps I have reached a time when I must change or die.
