019 // Action | Written
[Rose is actually in town after mostly retreating in the Cullen House with her husband for the past few weeks. She's been avoiding a certain werewolf, and she's grateful that he's been taken because this means she can actually go around the village without running into him.
Right now, she can be found inside inside the library because she has nothing better to do in order to run into people, the weather actually has to allow them to walk outside. Pouring rain does not make for good socializing.
Anyway, the atmosphere and quiet of the library has put her in a rare contemplative mood, leading her to put some of her thoughts into writing. She would normally make the entry private, but it's been a while since she's really talked to anyone.]
The news of these murders has barely affected me. After all, what value does death hold when it is not permanent? But, who am I to Still, I worry that the insignificance of death here is not the only reason for this detachment I'm feeling. Perhaps as the years pass by and my memories of being human fade, I start to lose my appreciation for the the fragility and beauty of life.
I don't want to forget. [This last part is scratched out enough to be unreadable, because there are just some vulnerabilities she does not want to share with the rest of the world.]
Right now, she can be found inside inside the library because she has nothing better to do in order to run into people, the weather actually has to allow them to walk outside. Pouring rain does not make for good socializing.
Anyway, the atmosphere and quiet of the library has put her in a rare contemplative mood, leading her to put some of her thoughts into writing. She would normally make the entry private, but it's been a while since she's really talked to anyone.]
The news of these murders has barely affected me. After all, what value does death hold when it is not permanent? But, who am I to Still, I worry that the insignificance of death here is not the only reason for this detachment I'm feeling. Perhaps as the years pass by and my memories of being human fade, I start to lose my appreciation for the the fragility and beauty of life.
I don't want to forget. [This last part is scratched out enough to be unreadable, because there are just some vulnerabilities she does not want to share with the rest of the world.]