An ornate and gold-edged book, of which inside are secrets even she doesn't know or understand. But tucked all through it are leaflets of paper, as if she'd rather not write in the book its self. Except on the first empty page of the book is written in exquisite, flowing penmanship her full name. ~ Lavender Cecelia Morgan.
Tuesday, 23 April 2019
Sometimes I wonder why I even try. Why I even exist any more. Seems like every time I TRY and do something right I inevitably mess it all up. Ended up hurting a friend, got accused of trying to sabotage their happiness, which couldn't be more wrong. I know what it is like to be lonely, I know what it is like to feel like you may never find someone who makes you smile, laugh, or just feel... important again. So why would I purposely hinder someone else having that? I envy them, yes. But not to the point of trying to take it away from them. Sometimes I wish, I never came to Valorn, maybe I could have figured things out where I was. But, I know I would have died there, and not the kind of death adventures know, but one as a villager would know. But even then... sometimes I feel as if I am dying here too, a little at a time. Seems every time I am around people I make things worse for them. Makes stronger my belief I am better off alone.