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headcaseyI was told that when writing in a journal, I shouldn't think of it as writing in a journal. Instead, I should try and treat it like meeting and talking to a friend. I'm not sure if that'll work, or if it's just crazy troll logic, but I suppose I've got nothing to lose by trying. As it is, my exploits into the world of introspection have been a dismal failure. Here it goes:
Hello. My name is Casey Elsbeth Dikawa. As I write this, I am twenty two years old and I live in the Phoenix House. My birthday is August third.
That part was easy. It was just statistics, but now I suppose I should provide some details, as is generally required when making a new friend.
I was born in Senva, a village east of Harper Palace. My father was Trey Dikawa, the younger brother of Shaldani's monarch, Darla Dikawa. My mother was Laura Deanverre, his wife, young enough to be his daughter, but then again, that's the way royalty works. You see, I was an accident. The reason my father married so late in life was because they were taking every possible measure to prevent him from having children. They were afraid it would mess up the order of succession, which rightfully falls on Darla's daughters. Nevertheless, I still happened. Never, not once in my entire life, have I been thoroughly convinced that Trey is really my father, but that's another matter.
Looking back over what I've written, I realize it's far too much of a confession to make on the initial meeting of a new friend, so I suppose I better stop before I get completely out of control. I suppose I should consider this journal entry a triumph, as I've actually gotten something accomplished. Why then, however, do I feel so unsettled?
Hello. My name is Casey Elsbeth Dikawa. As I write this, I am twenty two years old and I live in the Phoenix House. My birthday is August third.
That part was easy. It was just statistics, but now I suppose I should provide some details, as is generally required when making a new friend.
I was born in Senva, a village east of Harper Palace. My father was Trey Dikawa, the younger brother of Shaldani's monarch, Darla Dikawa. My mother was Laura Deanverre, his wife, young enough to be his daughter, but then again, that's the way royalty works. You see, I was an accident. The reason my father married so late in life was because they were taking every possible measure to prevent him from having children. They were afraid it would mess up the order of succession, which rightfully falls on Darla's daughters. Nevertheless, I still happened. Never, not once in my entire life, have I been thoroughly convinced that Trey is really my father, but that's another matter.
Looking back over what I've written, I realize it's far too much of a confession to make on the initial meeting of a new friend, so I suppose I better stop before I get completely out of control. I suppose I should consider this journal entry a triumph, as I've actually gotten something accomplished. Why then, however, do I feel so unsettled?
