| Quills & Candles |
| Summary: | Journal Entry |
| Date: | 13/08/2012 |
| Related Logs: | None. |
| Players: |
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| Harold's Suite at Highfield |
| Aug 13, 289 |
Every day I feel just a little bit further away. Lost…like I'm slipping. There are moments of perfect clarity, where he says something and I can laugh, smile, reply and I feel like a whole person, like one who's capable and then…then something simple comes along. Something no more diffcult for most than a walk up a few flights of stairs to the parapet and yet.. It's not that simple for me. Not like for most. It's stepping out to be exposed, it's going higher and higher and feeling this crushing weight on my chest getting heavier and heavier until it hurts to breath and I feel like I'm going to be sick if I open my mouth.
And his family there. Gods, his family. And he makes so much of them, builds them up so very high and I…I'm so very low. So low and a stranger in their home. Afraid to walk the halls because I might run into someone and not know what to say. Afraid that I'll do the wrong thing and say the wrong thing and embarrass him. So I say nothing at all and then…well then I just embarrass him anyway. I embarrass myself. I'm not this person. I'm not. I didn't used to be. I used to be strong, or I thought I was. I was perfectly prepared to face a life that had no one in it. I had the people of the village to tend to, to feel like I offered something back to the world and then I didn't. Then I had someone who…wanted me to be someone else. Imagined, on our wedding night that I was someone else.
So when did he finally start seeing me? When did I stop being okay? Afraid…afraid of meeting people, of opening my mouth. Just…just afraid. I'm not afraid at Kellen. There's no one else there but me. Or well, there's no one else there of noble birth. There's only Harold and he has to be somewhere else and in my heart, in my heart I believe he'd rather be somewhere else too.
They're so strong, the women of his family. Worthy of admiration, of command. They're poised and know what to say and how to say it. I'm not like them. I'm not even like the rest of my own family. I'm unhappy, I'm miserable and it feels like the only thing I've gotten right since marrying him, was getting pregnant and that's hardly me at all, is it? Give him sons he says, or daughters it doesn't matter. But…that's not me, is it? I'm just the carrier. Tend his home, make his people happy but…that's just me filling a role.
I can't remember where I went. I can't remember what happened to the girl who was alright with sneaking away in a servants clothes to go fishing. The one who could laugh in a group and jest and smile and then I remember. She'd a husband who frowned over her tongue. One who…didn't approve of her healing, no matter how he says he might come around to the idea. Who threatened to send her off to a tower with help that weren't afraid to use liberal punishments. Nothing was right. Not even my opinions. Nothing at all, but that I was something he could use behind closed doors.
Had to change, didn't I? Had to do what was excepted? Except…except that wasn't right either and now they all just say be myself. But…how can I when I can't even remember who that's supposed to be or what I'm supposed to be. Hide away and people will talk. Go out and stay silent and people will talk. They will. And I know what they'll say. They'll feel sorry for him. I would, if I weren't me. If I were just on the outside looking in. I'd feel sorry for the man whose wife can't be an asset at his side. Pity for the man whose wife can barely hold up a conversation. Who's afraid of everything. I'd laugh at such a creature. The problem? The problem is that I am that creature. And now…
Now I hate myself.
