Reset.

It’s all too much.

A happy sketch, in the rain.

A happy sketch, in the rain.

Isabella came back and blasted Nathaniel with life energy: he still has a heartbeat weeks later and is breathing and eating bacon sandwiches like there’s no tomorrow, but he gets tired really fast.

Aoibheann disappeared and then came back, and she won’t tell me where she was, and we had a big fight because I found out she let the Huntsman mark her in exchange for my safety. The Huntsman’s mark means she can’t be around Llwyd, who is our very sick Seelie King and with whom she is in love, and even though she says it’s not, I know that’s my fault.

While Aoibheann was missing, I went and asked Ardan where she was, and the Boatman appeared! He was horrible and mean to me and said I was putting everyone in danger by asking questions. Well, how do you learn shit if you don’t ask questions? Am I meant to just walk blindly through and be oblivious to everything? I don’t fucking think so. He also suggested there was something wrong with me because I actually found a home here in Ashmourne, so fuck him.

Blaise asked Aislyn to be his consort, and she said yes. He even gave her a ring. Then just a few days later, she told him she was with child, and they were so happy. But just a couple of days ago, she lost the baby; there was blood everywhere and it was so scary. The next morning, there was a note on my pillow saying Blaise had to go away for a while and that I should look to Galaddan, the arms master, while he was away. I spent a whole day talking Aislyn down from a ledge and getting her to listen to the healers, and now he’s gone and not even Dan can find him.

So fuck it. Fuck Ashmourne. Fuck the whole thing. I am not going to write about anything sad any more, at least for a little while. Everything will be positive and full of bunnies or something. Fuck it. This is my journal, not East Enders.

Me and Nualla.

Me and Nualla.

So that’s the new rule. Fuck you, Ashmourne. Fuck stupid fights and idiots who run off and leave you without a word, and fuck the Boatman and everybody who seems to show up just to complicate everything, and fuck King Gwythyr, who is still in my dreams even though Val — and where the fuck is Val, anyway? — said she made this deal with him, and fuck everybody except Aoibheann and Nathaniel and Val and Paasheeluu and Lady Siansa, because they’re the only people who stick around and are there when you need them and don’t just fucking run away or stay and torture you or tell you there’s something wrong with you because you just want to know WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON. I don’t care any more. Fuck it.

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