How does a person measure bravery? What is bravery?

It is a fundamental question which I have been asking myself each turn here lately. Break down what it is to be brave in the real sense of the word. Not the actions but..the sense of it all. I do not think that in order to be brave means you have to rush into battle, axe held steady, armor strapped on, most of the time. The slappy gnome will never let that one be lived down.

But anyways... I think that bravery in my life has been defined..or at least a product of being able to at least attempt to do the right thing. Not long ago I did not think this way. Indeed.. I could not bring myself to do the right thing alot of the time. Patience having never been a particularly that I can remember having.. So I lean on another word.. Will. Force of will to keep my mouth shut. Or is it another persons will shutting my mouth for me? Wow again look at me. Not being able to articulate what I want here. If I could center my mind more often when I am not hiding, than when I am hiding in plain sight perhaps I would get things done.

I am brave in my way. But, without others logic and strength.. would I be?

My hands seems strong. They feel strong when I look at them, I tend to think they are that. But.. When someone is ripped from them. Ripped away in the dark and devoured then what. How do you handle that. I don't know how is the answer.

Do you remember.. Standing in the new hall. Her screams echoing through my mind. Birds at the height of flight coming and going. My badge said maybe I should get them together. So I did. It all seemed fine. I thought I was brave then when the unthinkable happened. She watched me writhe in pain, and in a flash I felt weaker than I could have ever thought possible. And the screams? How two times in one lifetime am I going to be forced to watch her get punished for no reason. Ripped from my hands as a candyball from a babe. Unable to even add my light. They have been there this whole time. Them for me, me for them.. For long beyond reason. Every day feels like a flashback, only this time.. This time we are stronger.. Wiser. We see the errors of the past and will not repeat them. Nothing else matters.

They seem like such strong hands..

**several pages appear to be torn out roughly, leaving jagged, irregular edges in their wake**

I have never ever had such a hard time not writing things that are on my mind.. What purpose is there behind a journal anyways if not to share my thoughts? 'I make you free', or so this little book will claim. I suppose in this situation, I am better off not asking why I feel I cannot write things..

Well I'm not dumb but I can't understand how things in this land go as they do. Indeed life yes? We spend our time waiting for the other boot to drop and squash us, yet we carry on with our lives. So when you carefully evaluate your life what do you get? A journal full of insane ramblings? Perhaps you ended up with fabulous friends who adore you to the end. Perhaps you ended up with the perfect woman, or, perhaps you lost her.

I am going to try to not end with you being filled with insane ramblings. I need to focus here, which has not been my strong suit of late.

We have built the first true building for the guild. Emmy let me draft the designs and I decided on utility not grandeur. In fact I have hardly left it since we brought the tables and cots in. While I am here, the world seems bathed in a celestial light. It has taken a lot of personal will to not go dancing about in Milltown grinning like an idiot. We are designing what seems to be a tree-house of sorts. I think my vision may be a little different than everyone else's, but I do not mind all that. I cannot just jump and hope that everyone will accept my designs.

I'm not the world's most passionate guy either. And that is on display a lot I think. Attempting to separate certain aspects of my life from others has inherently left some out in the cold. A mixture of Pride and Fear always is something I am dealing with. But also, trust. I am not some bogan who sits about all day ignorant of the comings and goings around me. Sometimes.. Just sometimes even I get burned so badly there is no going back. My ability to trust, which, was taken? I thought perhaps I needed to find it, and shockingly.. I discovered that I had it all this time. No one stole it, I was keeping it back, suppressed.. Layered behind my wall of pride which is near impossible to tear down. Nearly impossible.. But, and here is the shock.. It has been done..

It's a mixed up muddled up shook up world except for.. Well.. You get the idea..

**the writing is slightly angled and looks like it has been written in anger**

What a day... It started so well.. It cascaded into the best day I have had in the time since I woke.. Then came crashing down with a resounding thud. I cannot even bring myself to write it. I do not want to relive it ever.

I was going to write a story about two cats.. But I do not have the inspiration any longer..