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The journal of a silent poet.


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Please PM me if you have any comments or questions regarding this Journal.

This journal is one in poor condition, it appears to have fallen into a puddle in the rain and ruined many of the pages, but it seems that someone still made use of it.

The writing is neatly done as though the person writes very often. It consists of small and curvy letters.

 

Entry One

 

     A Lalafell tradesman had passed by and accidentally dropped one of the many blank books that were on his cart in a puddle before me. He looked at me and spit on the road in annoyance saying the book was mine to keep. The book seemed to be I slowly picked it up and the book seemed to be in a different format than the books I use for writing and poetry. I asked one of the locals and he said the piece of Junk is a journal you use to write your thoughts in, and if I wanted to write my thoughts I should not waste it on a book in such poor condition.

     As it is right now all the money that was saved for me is now long gone. The only way I can even really get food at the moment is to trade a page of Poems for an orange or a small chunk of bread. The host club gives me free food often but I have been finding myself slowly straying away from the place. Besides I have had to use worse hand me downs where I came from before. So this book while not as nice as my others will make a fine new addition to my shoulder bag of books. Master always warned me not to waste what was given to me.

     I was hesitant to write my thoughts inside of a small book wondering what the purpose was. I just left it in my shoulder bag for a bell or so as it had begun to rain again. But as my thoughts eat at me in my head and I desire to speak with those who are not there I feel I slowly begin to see the value in such a book and so had begun to write with the break in the Ul'dahn clouds. I would far prefer to talk to someone who could respond and tell me everything is okay. But I could not burden anyone like that even if I had someone I could express myself to. My only two people I could even consider friends have either become angry with me or have their own troubles to focus on. I wish I could help them and as I walk the rainy roads of the Ul'dah backstreets I fail to see any options. I have always had to worry about my own well being or I had master to take care of me. But when the time comes that I need to take care of my friends I fall short when they need me most. When I feel I need them most I only cause trouble for them and make their lives even worse. I do not know what to do.

     Writing into this book may sound useless but it has already made me feel a little better. I simply will not show anyone so as not to bother them with my futile attempts to console myself. Because that is all I have. I miss Doma and resting my head on my masters lap as I watched the rain fall within the safety of the dry porch. Because being out in the rain itself reminds me of how cold things can be. Eorzea is nothing how I expected it to be. I desired to live on a green hill side picking oranges and writing poems about the beautiful Eorzean sunset. But as of late I am slowly losing my will to even write poems. Which is somewhat of the only skill that people value of mine. I suppose I am good at cleaning... But living as a Janitor for the rest of my life does not sound appealing to me at all... 

     I wanted to explore all of Eorzea, but I suppose Raimy is right in that with recent events I am somewhat forced to stay with the Host Club. Even though as of right now the host club has done little but cause me and my friends stress. I do not know what to do. But I suppose as a book you cannot really answer me. I can keep walking these roads hoping to find an answer but I doubt one will come. I just wish that there was something more I could do. Something to despite the warm desert sun, make this biting chilliness go away...

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