Two years now
Doing this in his journal because I don't have the energy to deal with an actual post. Stupid cold.
It has been two years now, two years since the day I was killed on the island. I was not as aware of it this year as I was last year, which is good, but I've been having nightmares and so could not put it from my mind entirely. I don't know if I ever will.
I remember what happened so clearly, and what came after when I seemed to just exist and heard and saw people talking about me. That is possibly worse than what happened, and a source for more nightmares. I could not control it and I think perhaps it was important for me to see some part of it, though which part and why I do not know. It is in the past, done, and troubles me less and less all the time. Boromir needs me now, not a whining man who can do nothing but look back.
That love of history does not help me in these things.
It was horrible, that day, and much of what I heard and saw later. But in the end I came here, so was it truly that bad? I can go home and the village is much better for me than the island. I have freedom and can work doing something I always wished to do. I have my brother and my nephew and friends. I have Sophie and Glaurmir and Glaurnaneth. As bad as things were, I believe that great good came to me because of it.
I must try to look at it that way. Another thing I should do is write down the bits of that story, the one I was going to write for Bridget and Richard's child. He will never hear it, but I think Henry will like it. I might even name one of the dragons after him, likely not one of the children. Perhaps, I do not know know. Would Henry like to be a tiny dragon who lives in a bright-coloured tropical flower? We'll see.
Two years, and I think I am doing well enough.
It has been two years now, two years since the day I was killed on the island. I was not as aware of it this year as I was last year, which is good, but I've been having nightmares and so could not put it from my mind entirely. I don't know if I ever will.
I remember what happened so clearly, and what came after when I seemed to just exist and heard and saw people talking about me. That is possibly worse than what happened, and a source for more nightmares. I could not control it and I think perhaps it was important for me to see some part of it, though which part and why I do not know. It is in the past, done, and troubles me less and less all the time. Boromir needs me now, not a whining man who can do nothing but look back.
That love of history does not help me in these things.
It was horrible, that day, and much of what I heard and saw later. But in the end I came here, so was it truly that bad? I can go home and the village is much better for me than the island. I have freedom and can work doing something I always wished to do. I have my brother and my nephew and friends. I have Sophie and Glaurmir and Glaurnaneth. As bad as things were, I believe that great good came to me because of it.
I must try to look at it that way. Another thing I should do is write down the bits of that story, the one I was going to write for Bridget and Richard's child. He will never hear it, but I think Henry will like it. I might even name one of the dragons after him, likely not one of the children. Perhaps, I do not know know. Would Henry like to be a tiny dragon who lives in a bright-coloured tropical flower? We'll see.
Two years, and I think I am doing well enough.