• Dear Journal..

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    August 1, 2014 /  Uncategorized

    I’m drunk. Completely and utterly wasted, thanks to the drinks in my own bar so at least I have some sense. Drinking alone only looks poor if people catch you doing it, and everyone that could come upon me this late hour is asleep. Thank Arien Yule is over with, for my part I only received one present this year; I did love the gift.

    Why am I writing in this while my mood is such? Who knows- it is better than yelling from the Veranda though. I saw that Maxwell received a proper birthday gift from me, probably more of a mistake than anything given the conversation which followed.. I really aught to stay away from the man and he I if he feels so towards me.. ‘You’re killing me’ repeats in my mind over and over- but I’m not doing anything but trying to be a friend. Apparently I should do less.
    Cellan still hasn’t written back, but I do not even know if she has gotten my letter. It has been less than a week since I wrote her the short jot of what could be barely called a letter.. I would have went with her, blindfolded if need be. I must know if she is alright, and whatever cause took her away is improving. I love the woman dearly and I am deeply concerned about all things concerning her, too bad I cannot serve the Dowager Queen and be a confidant in all matters. I might worry less if I could see her every day for an extended period..

    The rumors have begun, and their words deliver a stinging bite to my being, but I will push past them and pretend to hear not a thing when whispered in my presence. Long ago I decided that such things were beneath me, and I have more things to see to.

    I cannot believe the Earl Marshall and Grand Master decided my first Squire will be Casimir. The Lord is surely giggling in amusement.