Fool, Of Thyself Speak Well|Richard's Journal

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

Time to reflect on the day. Edward and I spent the day at home, while Mother decided to spend the day out and about, shopping as is her wont. But nothing will stop my mother went she wants to drive me crazy.

08:00 - Wake up, do my mandatory exercise routine as per the doctor's instructions and, having done so, read a few chapters of The Prince while thinking of rather spiteful ways to torture said doctor.

09:30 - Am interrupted in my reading by a phonecall from my mother. She wants to know how Edward's doing. I tell her to ask him herself. She says she knew I'd be up and he'd still be asleep. She has a point.

09:35 - Resume reading and finish the chapter. Go to wash, dress and have breakfast. Discover that my mother has organized my ties by colour and pattern. Re-arrange them the way I want them.

10:00 - Go to see if Edward is awake. He isn't. There's a half empty bottle of wine on his bedside table. Wish I could kick him.

10:15 - Recieve another phonecall from my mother. She is p*****. And no wonder, considering what was written in The New York Times this morning. I hate reporters.

10:30 - Go see if Edward's still breathing. To great annoyance, yes. Mumbles in his sleep about a party. Really wish I could kick him.

11:00 - Decide to get some work done. Am going over spreadsheets when I discover Edward's been dipping into the city funds again to buy more wine. Feel like throttling him now.

11:18 - Recieve a phonecall from one of my advisors, William Catesby. Wants to know if I'll join him for a drink later. Decline the offer. Don't want to end up even remotley like Edward. Catesby says he'll go with Ratcliffe instead and hangs up on me. D***.

12:00 - Edward surfaces and stumbled down to the kitchen for food. I know this because I hear him fall out of bed and lumber down there from across the hall. That man could wake the dead. I loathe him, gallumphing about like a b***** elephant when I'm trying to work.

01:30 - Am interrupted once again by the man himself. He's not bothered no change yet or do anything except eat; he's got toast crumbs all down his pyjamas. God. He wants to discuss the meeting he's arranged for Monday; I'm surprised he remembers.

02:15 - Get back to work; Edward's changed the meeting so it's at 03:00. I'm sure he's done that to mess with my schedule; I'm certain he knows 03:00 is when I arranged to have the tailor come in. Git.

04:50 - A surprisingly un-eventful afternoon. I premuse Edward went back to bed since I haven't heard from him at all.

06:00 - Dinner. Edward takes this as an oppurtunity to drink more, I try to stop him, kindly brother that I am saving him from himself (he knows it won't do him any good, he just likes to toy with his doctors). This seems to be his cue to hurl abuse at me until he starts barking like a seal, this in turn causes him trouble breathing. Some bright spark calls one of his doctors in and he's carted off back to his room. Did I say un-eventful? My mistake.

06:20 - Dinner having been curtailed I go to check on Edward. He doesn't look good but he still manages to croak out an insult or two before the rest of his medical staff swarm in like vultures to a rotting carcas.

08:00 - Recieve yet another phonecall from my beloved mother. Wants to know if we can all have a Sunday lunch tommorow. I say I doubt it, she asks why, I explain what happened to Edward. She says she's coming home right now. I wonder how she's managed to spend all day shopping and not bore herself to death.

08:30 - Mother gets back and goes to visit poor dear Edward. I get back to work and finish some bullitens and articles needed for Monday's meeting.

09:00 - Having visited Edward, Mother pops in to see me. Realizes I've re-arranged the ties from how she'd organized them earlier. Seems to be very upset about this.

09:30 - Mother's 'tie tirade' being over with, she pulls out a new one from one of her many shopping bags. It's got a pattern of little black sheep. My mother is quite the ready wit.

10:00 - One of Edward's staff comes in and requests that I come and see him. Last time Edward wanted to see me he just sent a text. Odd.

10:15 - Edward has decided to cancel Monday's meeting. Guess who has to let everyone else know.

10:30 - Turn on the television to see if there's anything worth watching. Watch the news for a bit before changing channels. End up settling down to watch Alfred Hitchcock's 'Dial M For Murder'. I think the murderer's a complete idiot but maybe that's just me. If I was going to murder my wife I'd come up with a much more engenious plan than that...how can you strangle someone with a stocking anyway?

11:15 - Turn the television off in frustration. Decide to return to The Prince.

11:45 - Finish reading for the night and get ready for bed. I can hear the sound of Edward's television even here; he always has it on loud. Probably just to annoy me. Either that or he's going deaf. Maybe both. He's watching a talk show; the laughter of the audience is painfully forced and fake.

11:50 - He's watching a war movie now. The gunshots and yells ring out from across the hall, invading both my part of the manor and my mind. I attempt to yell over the noise for him to turn it off, or at least turn it down. My pleas fall on deaf ears.

12:00 - Now to attempt sleep. I doubt I'll get much though, not with that noise forcing memories to re-emerge and haunt my dreams.

[hamlet]

Nice Machiavelli plug there, very appropriate lol

"10:30 - Go see if Edward's still breathing. To great annoyance, yes. Mumbles in his sleep about a party. Really wish I could kick him." LOLs

Aw this is really funny. Richy does have a sense of humor lol

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

As much as I hate to break from the norm, I feel I should at least make some sort of record for posterity's sake before I go. Who knows? Maybe when all is said and done I'll put everything onto a graph and use it as my screen-saver?

Or not.

I'm the only one that's ever going to lay eyes on this, yet I'm not making any sense, even to myself. That's worrying.

I guess it's normal for one to ramble and make no sense when one is in a state of great anticipation.

When I awoke this morning, I awoke with a purpose in mind. It occurred to me last night that it has been a long while since I visited Anne. Too long, in fact.

Of course, considering everything that's happened between us over the years, I doubt she'll be happy to see me.

Not that it matters too much in terms of my latest scheme. I'm well aware that if I hope to become Mayor of this city sometime soon then I must have a good public image to back me up. After all, what is a leader without the support and respect of his people?

But it's pretty obvious the media and I aren't getting along. I'm aware it's partly my fault but can I be blamed for getting angry if they insist on insulting and belittling me?

It was while thinking in this vein that I came up with a plan; a plan to not only get myself into the good graces of the public and the press but also...hopefully...of Anne.

It's all quite simple really. I'll take her out to dinner with me. Couldn't be easier. We're seen together in public, people get the idea of me being a caring and compassionate man who has a life besides sitting behind a desk and perhaps...maybe...just maybe... Anne and I can put the past behind us for one night.

I still remember the days we spent together when we were younger, quite acutely. Admittedly these pleasant memories have faded in comparison to more recent and painful events, but suffice to say they're still there.

There was that one summer when the four of us; Edward, George, Anne and myself, all went on a brief road trip and we stopped beside a lake for a picnic. Soppy stuff, I know. Anyway we were all larking about, as is the wont of young people. George and Edward were playing with a Frisbee and Anne and I were just sitting on the grass watching them. I remember Anne was making daisy chains; one for each of us. Friendship bracelets.

Then Edward make us both join in their game. Needless to say I was utter c*** but Anne didn't laugh at me like the other two did.

The fun ended when George, running backwards to catch the Frisbee, ran too far and fell in the lake. He professed that I'd pushed him in but of course that's rubbish. Me...try to drown George? Don't make me laugh. Edward managed to help him out and he sided with George, of course he did. Anne stood up for me though, she stayed by my side.

Then university started up, and along came Edward d'Anjou. The git. He stole Anne away from me, forced her to marry him and bear his child... It was when I was away at war when I found out she'd had the baby; George, thoughtful man that he is, thought I'd like to know and somehow managed to get the message through to me.

Anne had been one of my only friends. And it felt like she was lost to me forever... all because of d'Anjou.

He wasn't worthy of her. He didn't love her. Not like I did.

And I still do.

Don't I?

God.

It's not like me to be like this, confused, unsure. That's not part of who I am at all. But there's something about Anne that just-

The taxi's here. Time to pay Anne a visit long overdue.

May write again later.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

What can I say? I've done it again! I really should get a Laurence Olivier Award. Or something. Another medal for my uniform at the very least, albeit one that's not strictly in the military sense. I surely am one of the finest actors who has never set foot on-stage! No matter what I do, she doesn't see through it! She thinks, heck I'm sure she believes, that I have truly changed for the better, that I'm truly trying to make up for what I did.

Not that it's possible. But I can b***** well try.

The strange thing is, I don't think I'm the only one that's acting here. Normally I can read people like a book, I know almost instantly what's going on in their heads. But Anne? She's different. Always has been. But hopefully this won't always be the case.

I'd expected her to acquiesce to my request, of course. How could she not, after all I've done for her and that brat of hers, Henry? Named after his grandfather no doubt, a weak, foolish man...didn't even put up a fight...prayed to God as if He would help him...

That's not how it works. He wasn't to know...and I never gave him a chance to find out otherwise. That's his funeral.

But Anne...she's very different. She may seem weak, she may give off an air of naivety, vulnerability...but she isn't entirely so. She manages to find some inner strength somehow, to defy me, to reject me even.

And yet she kissed me...

Believe that if you will. I, who killed her beloved Edward and his father...has she already forgotten Edward, pushed him from her mind? Yet I know this can't be true...it's obvious she loved him...

But he didn't love her. I keep telling myself that. He never cared for her, not as I did.

And after today I'm almost certain I still do.

I'm taking her out for dinner tomorrow as planned, believe it or not it was her who suggested tomorrow and not me! She said she chose that date to get it over with...but I like to think otherwise.

I hope that, for one night, we might be able to put the past behind us.

All men live in hope.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

Today was a prime example not only of the dysfunctionality of my family but of just how annoying subordinates can be. I honestly had to remind myself today why I'm aiming for the top job if this is the sort of thing I'll have to put up with on a daily basis, only in triplicate. That was shameful. Ah well. It's Edward's big dinner party in three days time...I have that to look forward to.

After meeting Doctor Faustus at the Capulet's Ball we met up on a number of occasions to discuss not only my physical ailments but the problem of Edward. Between us we came up with what I can honestly say is one of the most brilliant plans I've ever assisted in making.

It's one of those plans that is elegant in its simplicity. Faustus, being one of (if not the best) doctors in the city, has access to just about every medicine in existence. There's one drug, he informs me, which need only be taken in a small dose and which will kill a man within minutes. The excellent thing about it is that the victim, in this case Edward, won't have the slightest clue that anything is amiss (until he's dead), nor does the drug leave any tell-tale signs (at least for all outward appearances). It's perfect.

When the time comes, at the party Edward's having, Faustus will give me the drug. I'd rather have it with me sooner, but there is a chance it might be discovered if I have it in the Manor before it's needed. The only problem will be finding the opportune moment to give it to Edward. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, I guess.

It took a lot of persuading to get Faustus' name on the guest list. Edward was adamant that the doctor shouldn't come; he's embarrassed about how he acted at the Capulet's Ball and never wants to come face to face with him again. Typical Edward. It never ceases to amaze me how he became such a popular political figure. He drinks like a fish, he makes the most stupid decisions, advises me to use the city funds for completely un-necessary projects...it's quite ridiculous.

I won't miss him.

George will though. My God, I can't wait to see the look on his face. Or Mother's, come to that. On the day of the party, as it happens, she'll be away on a retreat with a group of people from church...and I've taken liberties to ensure George's business trip got pushed up a few weeks. It's for their own good that they won't be around really...if George discovered anything, say, I would have no qualms about ensuring he followed in Edward's footsteps.

Not in the same manner though. I think it would be more amusing to have him drowned somehow; his fear of water is just laughable.

That might raise some awkward questions, though, if I was the only one of us three still alive. Even better in that case that George is out of the way, so I'm not tempted.

I mean...I already have two murders on my hands, not to mention all that happened in the war. Not that I'm being flippant about it. But Edward d'Anjou and his dear old Dad deserved it. And so does Edward. He deserves to die. Part of me wishes this drug I plan to use on Edward would cause him a great deal of pain...

Ah well. Can't be helped. He'll be dead, which is good enough for me.

All I can hope for now is that everything goes according to plan...

[hamlet]

Haha nice. All of this is scarily in character. I love it. Keep going

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

Whenever Edward had one of his crazy parties or wild nights he'd often profess that he'd had 'the time of his life'. I think tonight, for the first time, I've experienced that feeling for myself.

I'd anticipated the night being an interesting one, to say the least. The guest list alone promised entertainment and intellectual discussions in equal measure. Some of this was lived up to (such as in the case of Count Monte Cristo) and some of it was not (Detective Holmes being the prime example in this category).

It all started well enough, as though there was nothing remarkable about it, simply a dinner party as everyone expected. The dinner itself went very well, although a notable oddity was when Sherlock Holmes left (the reason for which I discovered later, which, might I add, I'm not all that surprised by).

Things started to get interesting when Edward collapsed. No, I'm not making that up.I hadn't planned for that to happen and had in fact, at that point, been contemplating how best to slip him the drug (since when have I paid attention to Edward's speeches? He loves the sound of his own voice. Loved, I should say.) But the fact that he fainted when he did was, in a word, perfect. It got him out of the dining room and away from the others, and gave me the opportunity I needed...to kill him.

I didn't feel remorse then, and I don't now. Faustus did though, and doubtless still does. I suspected this would be trouble when I first brought up the problem of Edward with him, but his conscience really made itself obvious tonight, despite all he says. He tried to accuse me as the guilty party, for God's sake! I'm glad to be rid of that man to be honest; he's played his part, show's over.

Accusing him for the murder was, admittedly, one of my plans that I thought would be unlikely to come to fruition. And yet it did, with Mister Ace Detective off to question the doctor almost as soon as our little disagreement was halted by Monte Cristo.

The Count of Monte Cristo. What an intriguing man indeed. And no doubt a useful man to have around. There was a point where it seemed he was the only one with any semblance of coherence about him...I wonder how the aftermath would have turned out had he not been there? Who knows.

After everyone had at last departed, I took the time to properly dispose of the evidence and do some investigating of my own, as planned. In doing so I discovered quite a lot about a certain Detective...information which he won't want revealed, I have no doubt.

All that will be of little consequence if he doesn't suspect me. But considering his state by the close of the evening I would consider myself surprised if he recalls much of these events come tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow, I need to figure out how best to phrase things for the press. And I really should let George and Mother know what's happened.

It's surprisingly quiet without Edward around. Goodness only knows why that occurred to me, but it did. This time of night he'd be watching the television and have the volume up loud. Not that things will be quiet for much longer, not when I let the press know about this.

Best enjoy the silence while I still can.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

It was the funeral today; a more fitting end for Edward than I think he deserves. Then again, I'm biased.

Luckily for me no-one seems to suspect a thing. I played my part to perfection, if I do say so myself...hell, I fooled Mother and she was genuinely upset! George too, come to that. Good God, the look on his face giving the eulogy...

There was, of course, the odd unpleasant moment to mar my current jovial and victorious state. The fact that I recalled the words of Elissa Purcell springs to mind; her warning to Edward about watching his back.

She won't be fooled, that's for certain.

Then there's the problem of these d*** elections. I wouldn't be so narked about them if I knew I would win...but despite the good public image I've been making for myself these past few weeks I think a good majority will deviate towards George...

The temptation to bump him off too is incredibly hard to resist at the present moment. Maybe I should go and start planning a campaign instead of thinking up ways to kill him.I don't want anyone getting suspicious; I'm on brittle glass as it is despite the success of my plans thus far.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

The campaigns have ended.
The polls have closed.
The votes are in.
Guess who won?

I'm talking to myself again. No-one's ever going to read this but me, and here I am asking myself questions, questions which I know the answer to. I guess this is another feature of being inexplicably over the moon.

What's even more amazing than the fact I won (yes, I rigged the votes a little, but that's besides the point) is that, yet again, no-one seems to have noticed anything amiss! George was giving me a look of awe all through my inauguration speech, for crying out loud (then again, he never was the brightest bulb in the box).

So...here I am. This is it.

Richard Plantagenet, Mayor of New York City.

My God that's fun to write.

But I can't help thinking, even in this victorious and euphoric state of mine, will this last? Can it last? Should I be worried that, sooner or later, people will start to suspect something?

People can be unpredictable sometimes.That's what Harry Chandler said. And he's right. They most certainly can be.

I've been careful before now, but the time has come to be even more meticulous if I'm going to keep this up. I haven't come this far to be knocked back down.

I'm going to remain in power if it kills me.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

There have been many interesting developments over the past few weeks, that and a great deal of work, hence the lack of writing. Work isn't all bad though and surely in my position some might go so far as to call it enjoyable.

As late however it has been quite a trial. Protests started up last week, against that cut I made to the health budget to get back at that d*** doctor. To begin with there was nothing much to be worried about; just a few people with banners. But then things got worse; the crowds grew as more and more people joined the cause. It's got to the point where its increasingly difficult to try and leave the building and I get the suspicion it's only a matter of time before it erupts into violence.

I should do something to combat this; I know I should. But I'm one to hold a grudge, and can I be blamed for wanting to punish Faustus? He told the press just what he thought of the cuts...I had the Times edit it, naturally.

Which brings me to my next point.

I now have even more reason to despise that doctor. It turns out, at least, according to Harry Chandler, that Holmes is investigating Edward's death. Holmes would, no doubt, interrogate Faustus. And the doctor has no reason not to tell him everything.

I was a fool not to have seen this coming...but at least, when Holmes comes, I'll be ready for him. I have a few tricks up my sleeve, as ever.

The latest event in my life, however, is of a very different nature.

I will admit it openly with no great preamble.

Anne and I are engaged!

It's been a few days now and I can still scarce believe it. I won't deny that I'm ecstatic (how could I deny that?) yet at the same time my triumph is somewhat marred... Was it that easy for her to forget Edward d'Anjou? Is she really as pleased about this as she professes? She admitted she loved me before and that seems to be ringing true...

Good God.

This is just so...I don't know how to describe it adequatley in words.

So I won't try.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

ooc: Reserved for Holmes confrontation entry

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

Once again, due to work and other obligations, making an entry here hasn't been on my mind recently. As a result of this, is before, there is a lot to report.

For instance, the fact that Hector Tormei has decided to run for mayor. I couldn't believe it at first, refused to almost. Neither Hector nor myself suffer the notion of friendship, as the word is commonly used, and yet...it feels like betrayal. It feels as though he's trying to usurp me. And he, of course, has no idea just what I've done to get this position. No idea. If only he knew he'd think twice...or would he?

Surely he knows what this position means to me, even if he isn't fully aware of how I gained it? He had mentioned entering politics before, it's true, but I'd never have thought...

As though to drive the point home he set up a constituent's meeting on the steps of City Hall days after his candidacy was made official. It's impossible to try and get anything done when you're well aware someone you regard as a close acquaintance is just outside and persuading people to vote against you. I couldn't hear much of what was going on from my office, granted, but a glance out of the window confirmed his little meeting was generating a large crowd.

Quite alarming to say the least.

Only a few days later, Edward's kids arrived on the scene. Elizabeth told me it was their half term holidays or something, that and she wanted them to come to Anne and I's wedding. How that idea entered her head I don't know. It didn't help that Edward Junior had a great deal of holiday work for his world government class or something similar and kept bombarding me with questions. Despite the fact Elizabeth and I don't get on she seemed to sense that this wasn't what I needed (either that or she was worried I would inflict grevious bodily harm on him if he kept asking questions) and got him to pester George instead (who, strangely enough, seemed happy to help).

Anyway.

As if all this wasn't bad enough...

I hate to admit it even here.

I've been feeling...guilty.

It's as though there's this voice in my head, berating me continually for everything I've done, making accusations and calling me guilty, as though I'm in a court of law for my crimes. I've tried to make the voice go away on a number of occasions, but nothing seems to work. If anything it's gotten more insistent over the past few days.

I have my suspicions it's due to the elections, as though the fear of losing the power I killed to gain has caused some semblance of consciene to make itself known. What was it I wrote here before? I'm going to remain in power if it kills me? I believe I wrote that as a turn of phrase but if this b***** voice doesn't shut up...

What am I thinking? God, I must be going mad to even consider that.

Isn't that strange? Here I am writing about elections, guilt and how irritating Edward's children are, yet I have yet to discuss the wedding? Clearly I am not myself.

It was a relatively small and private affair; Anne had done most of the planning, admittedly, but it suited both of us perfectly fine. I never would have thought I'd get married, to be quite honest, especially not to Anne after the d'Anjou fiasco. So for this to actually be the case, for us to actually become man and wife, after all that's happened... It was an important day for us both, and not just in the sense most would expect.

I can't really put the emotions felt that day into words, for I'm not the most overly emotional or sentimental of men. But I can say that I felt happy, truly happy, for the first time in...I don't know how long. Call me macabre but not even the knowledge that Edward's death had enabled me to advance to my current position caused me as much joy, and for me that was a rather enjoyable state of affairs.

But this happiness didn't last long. It never seems to with me. The voice of conscience in my head had remained quiet, thankfully, for the days leading up to the wedding as well as on the day itself, but around a week afterwards it was back in full force, as though the fact I had married the widow of a man I'd murdered had spurred it on.

Actually, that is probably true.

It's ridiculous, this consciene, this guilt I'm feeling. I did what I had to, that's all. Those who I murdered deserved their fate.

And yet I feel this may be a battle I cannot win.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

I think I’m losing my mind.

Yes, that sounds ridiculous, I know it does. But what other explanation can there be for this?

I saw Edward’s ghost.

I’m not making this up. I saw him. Clear as day.

It must have been a dream…but it couldn’t have been. It was so…real. As though he wasn’t really dead.

But then…what he said…

“You may have got the top spot, Rickyboy, but you won’t have it for much longer. Pride before fall, as the old saying goes.”

I wouldn’t have made that up; what reason would I have to do so? Yet I heard it, those words, and I saw him, standing there with that superior, smug look on his face, the look he used to wear before…

This is insane. I must be seeing things. I’ve had a lot on my plate recently and this is the stress manifesting itself. That’s all. Surely.

And even if the ghost was real (which it b***** well wasn’t, can’t have been) it can’t have been telling the truth. Yes, there’s an election going on. Yes, there have been protests. Yes, I’m not exactly the most popular mayor there’s ever been. But that’s no reason to suppose…

What if I lose? It’s a possibility, isn’t it? I murdered Edward and for what? To have this position taken from me? Maybe I could…no. No I couldn’t. There’s enough suspicion around me as it is.

What am I talking about? No-one suspects me. The only people that know Edward was murdered are Holmes, Faustus and myself. And neither of the former will tell a soul; I’m sure of that.

Perhaps it was due to my conscience that I saw Edward again? I can’t deny it’s made itself known recently…but since when have I listened to my conscience, if it even existed before this? To do so is cowardly, surely. It’s not as though I’ve done anything wrong…I don’t need some voice in my head to tell me otherwise.

But to murder someone is criminal...of course what I've done is wrong.

No, it isn't wrong. Murder it may have been, but that doesn't make it criminal.

Edward deserved to die.

The polls closed today and the results of the election will be announced soon. It’s 2AM. Sleep isn’t happening tonight.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

...

For once in my life I'm lost for words. Almost.

The New York Times headline this morning says it all: HECTOR TORMEI WINS ELECTIONS.

I'm back in my old job, my old office...it's as though nothing has changed. But of course things couldn't be more different.

I've been trying to write up my final speech for this afternoon but the words won't come. How could this happen? After all I've been through, after all I've done, to be back to square one with nothing to show for it save one less irksome sibling and a damaged reputation?

God.

The fact that I've fallen so spectacularly from grace hasn't made the voice of my conscience (and the voice of Edward's ghost - I only say ghost for lack of a better term as ghosts don't exist) shut up either. It really isn't helping, especially since they have rung true.

I feel as though I'm the only one who's upset about this. Mother seems to think I got what I deserved (she keeps re-iterating that during all his time in office Edward never provoked protests yet I managed to in just a few months). George seemed upset on my behalf for a bit but he's already in awe of Tormei (if only he knew...). And Anne, well, I don't think she ever really wanted to be a mayor's wife - though she obviously favours me over Tormei I think she's rather pleased I no longer have the task of running the city on my shoulders.

Speaking of which, I suppose I should return to my speech...though it'll be a hard job to make it sound less...bitter. No time like the present.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

The speech went better than I expected, but that isn't to say it went particularly well. Of course the voices of Edward and my conscience refused to leave me be all the way through the proceedings, and the look on Hector Tormei's face...

Is it any wonder that, having hidden my distemper as best I could behind my mask of cordiality, I was inclined to let it loose when I returned home this evening? I'm calmer now, calm enough to write this at least, and in this state am reflecting on my actions and have come to realize that taking my anger out on Anne was not the wisest decision I ever made.

Then again, all my decisions lately seem to have been the wrong ones.

I had that dream again last night, the one I often have about the collapsing building, the gunshots and the desert. I honestly considered when I woke up, at least for a moment, about getting some sort of help. I let the idea go almost immediately - I'm not mad. I'm just...I don't know what I am, in all honesty.




...Yes, I do.




I am a villain.




No. I'm lying to myself. I'm not a villain, for God's sake. I did what I had to do. That's all.