...It's good to know this doesn't all have to be public.
I suppose, since I have a journal now, it wouldn't hurt to use it, would it?
I had a nightmare last night. Another nightmare, really. I have them a lot. I suppose it's stupid to worry about letting people know that when I always wear a sash that tells everyone I'm a coward, but I still do. Because there's a difference between someone being enough of a coward to break a promise and someone having nightmares all the time and being afraid.
I mean -
I mean. I'm not good at this, but you don't have to worry about someone who's just a bit of a coward, you know. But I think maybe people would worry about me if they knew about the nightmares, and the... well.
I wish my typist hadn't pointed out that there are things I can't remember very well. I remember that something bad happened, something with Lancelot, and with all of my brothers - something happened to them and then it was just Mordred and I and -
But I don't know about that. I mean. I don't. It's all hazy and strange and doesn't feel very real, and I don't remember having children and that just sounds strange when I read people saying that I did.
But that's not a big problem, really.
I just wish I wasn't afraid so much. I don't like it. But I think about those evil wizards, and yes, they're rather ridiculous and melodramatic and generally silly, but that doesn't mean they can't kill from a distance. True, even I'd probably be a more efficient assassin, but I remember when my mother - Well.
It hurts to be used as a tool by your mother, but I've been used to it for so long that I don't think I mind so much. That's just Mother. She's always been that way, and I can hardly blame her. Her life's been hard. I love her anyway.
But that's not the point. The point is that magic is dangerous, even if the people using it aren't especially effective. I'm afraid of magic.
And I'm afraid of being bound by it. I’m afraid of someone else’s will overriding my own. I’m afraid of death. And pain. I’m most afraid of being helpless.
People are stupid. I’m not most afraid of facing death. That’s not hard. What I’m truly terrified of is having no way of defending myself, of being helpless, of having no chance to strike back. And the thing about magic is that it can leave you defenseless in an instant.
I’ve been helpless, and I have the scar to prove it. I don’t like it. I don’t know…
I’m scared so much of the time. I wish Uncle Arthur were alive and here. And I wish…
…Well. It’s just my journal. No one will laugh at me. And no one will say - No one will say anything that isn’t true.
I wish Bercilak were here. He makes me nervous, but he’s… he’s good to be around, when there’s magic about. He knows it, and he knows what it can do. It’s completely mad, but I do like him, and I do wish he were here.
Sometimes I wonder if Mother thought what everyone else does. It would be just like her. And it would be just like her to - er.
And I had another nightmare last night. But I’m tired of writing, and I don’t think I want to write it down anymore anyway, so maybe I’ll do that later.
It’s my journal, after all. I can stop if I want.
I had a nightmare last night. Another nightmare, really. I have them a lot. I suppose it's stupid to worry about letting people know that when I always wear a sash that tells everyone I'm a coward, but I still do. Because there's a difference between someone being enough of a coward to break a promise and someone having nightmares all the time and being afraid.
I mean -
I mean. I'm not good at this, but you don't have to worry about someone who's just a bit of a coward, you know. But I think maybe people would worry about me if they knew about the nightmares, and the... well.
I wish my typist hadn't pointed out that there are things I can't remember very well. I remember that something bad happened, something with Lancelot, and with all of my brothers - something happened to them and then it was just Mordred and I and -
But I don't know about that. I mean. I don't. It's all hazy and strange and doesn't feel very real, and I don't remember having children and that just sounds strange when I read people saying that I did.
But that's not a big problem, really.
I just wish I wasn't afraid so much. I don't like it. But I think about those evil wizards, and yes, they're rather ridiculous and melodramatic and generally silly, but that doesn't mean they can't kill from a distance. True, even I'd probably be a more efficient assassin, but I remember when my mother - Well.
It hurts to be used as a tool by your mother, but I've been used to it for so long that I don't think I mind so much. That's just Mother. She's always been that way, and I can hardly blame her. Her life's been hard. I love her anyway.
But that's not the point. The point is that magic is dangerous, even if the people using it aren't especially effective. I'm afraid of magic.
And I'm afraid of being bound by it. I’m afraid of someone else’s will overriding my own. I’m afraid of death. And pain. I’m most afraid of being helpless.
People are stupid. I’m not most afraid of facing death. That’s not hard. What I’m truly terrified of is having no way of defending myself, of being helpless, of having no chance to strike back. And the thing about magic is that it can leave you defenseless in an instant.
I’ve been helpless, and I have the scar to prove it. I don’t like it. I don’t know…
I’m scared so much of the time. I wish Uncle Arthur were alive and here. And I wish…
…Well. It’s just my journal. No one will laugh at me. And no one will say - No one will say anything that isn’t true.
I wish Bercilak were here. He makes me nervous, but he’s… he’s good to be around, when there’s magic about. He knows it, and he knows what it can do. It’s completely mad, but I do like him, and I do wish he were here.
Sometimes I wonder if Mother thought what everyone else does. It would be just like her. And it would be just like her to - er.
And I had another nightmare last night. But I’m tired of writing, and I don’t think I want to write it down anymore anyway, so maybe I’ll do that later.
It’s my journal, after all. I can stop if I want.