As I have already written a farewell to my father, which Astraea knows about and hopefully will deliver should the zombies eat my flesh, I have decided to vent in here. I feel bad enough about the snippy tone of the last letter I sent, so I can't bother him with this unless I make it out alive. Best he not know the details- he's been through enough.
We're currently in a small room in the catacombs, resting and healing up before we go deeper into the ruins. I know I'm really not entirely writing this for myself, as I can see Astraea watching me and giving me a look that just screams "I'm gonna read that". So hi, friend. A pleasure, as always.
You would think, knowing that even in my own journal I have no privacy, that this will be a show too. A good yarn, full of lies and over-exaggerations and humor. But I’m tired. I’m tired of lying to my father, and I’m tired of the act I perform for our party. So now it’s just me. The only problem is I don’t know who I am. I’m funny and sarcastic because it makes people like me. I’m generous with my money because it makes people like me. I know the customs and traditions of half the courts in Pellanophia- and was expected to be perfect everywhere I went since I was three years old. The life of a bard is one giant party, but it’s not free. Not in the way we make it seem. You’re controlled by custom- by preconceptions. My mother tried to keep me safe from the worst of a bard’s lifestyle, but a part of me wonders if she never knew what went on behind the closed doors of court, or never realized the extent of it. *I* never even questioned it until recently- the drugs... the sex in dark corners that I was never supposed to talk about... It was probably my own fault- I always liked to wander. It was how I met the kids of the Emperor and Empress. It was how I met a lot of fascinating people. And some less than savory ones. And wound up tied up in a labyrinth. Go figure.
The taverns were always a little seedy, but the most that ever happened in those was I would get drunk and go to bed. The palaces were the shit-holes. Nobles thinking they owned everything and everyone, whose idea of a good time was to introduce the innocent young bard to every vice imaginable, while his mom was off performing and hobnobbing with kings and celebrities. I’m sure her upbringing was probably similar to mine, or maybe it wasn’t and she genuinely had no idea, but I can’t help but feel… resentful, sometimes. I could never put my finger on what always bothered me, but I think it was that she never saw the effect the lifestyle had on me- coming back to our quarters at 15 years old with hangovers, love bites- the times I would still be high out of my mind the next morning or covered in bruises.- and she never noticed, not once. And I hate that I’m upset about it at all, because I’d do anything to have her back. Maybe that wasn’t the way I should have grown up. But I don’t know anything else. And it’s fucked, but it used to be so easy to catch someone’s eye. I never even had to try. Now it feels like no one is interested, and I know you don’t understand, but I don’t know how to cope when no one is interested. I genuinely don’t. My whole life has been one giant show, and this very well could be the grand finale, and here I am: Alone in a crypt with people who see what they want to see in me.
A party-er for Poltak. An asshole and a slut for Ashley. A cheerleader for Theren, a monster to Corellon, a bastard to Igor, and idiot to Nells, and a mystery to my best friend. Well, for her at least, here’s the mystery solved. I am everything and nothing. I am whatever people want me to be; as long as I please them or terrify them I’m happy. All I *want* is for someone to see past the personas and love me for who I am, but I don’t know who that is. I can’t expect someone to love an empty shell, but that’s all I seem to be.
The problem is I don’t like the actual person I seem to be letting out. I know I have a darker side. You’ve seen it. I’m unforgiving and cold, and I should be kinder to the scaly friends that we come across on our adventures. I shouldn’t fly off the handle, and I need to have more actual empathy. My temper gets me into trouble, but all my life I’ve been taught to repress it, and allowing it out might be the only time in my life I’ve ever felt in control of myself. Not long after my mother died, I got into a bit of trouble- a duel might have been involved, no big deal,- and the resulting description of myself throughout all of Carcarron was “mad, bad, and dangerous to know”. It’s not the nicest persona, but for once… it felt like my own. But I don’t want that to be my legacy. I want to be better. I need to be better.
I guess, diary/Astraea, I just want someone to know me, since no one does. And if I have any say in the person I really am, the true me, I want it to be good. I want to be worthy of the party, and your friendship. I want to keep you all safe, and for good and love to win over evil and the total bullshit of everything around us. I want to make people proud. I want to be the type of person I sing songs about. Another act for now, but maybe one that won’t be an act forever.
Oh joy, off to fight more monsters now. Should be great! Maybe they’ll have gold and shit. We both like gold and shit.
Lots of love,
Charlemagne Mountbatten, whoever the fuck that is.
@sneakiestsneak @insanity-by-proxy