29 September, 1999

A Blacksmith's Son

I grew up the son of a blacksmith, but I’ve always known that smithing was never to be my trade. My abilities laid elsewhere: I’d always been good at head games. Of course, I always knew that I’d never use my intellect to make a living – one had to be a noble for that sort of thing – but nevertheless I liked pretending that that is what I would be.

I lived in the royal city of Trieste, just south of the Grand Castle. In such a grand city, I could find a job doing anything, but I always kept the pretense that I would live by my head. Eventually, I started to believe my fantasy, and when I turned fourteen, I ran away from my home to live as a beggar. My brains certainly helped me there, since I could come up with some pretty elaborate schemes to make people feel sorry for me. One time, I acted as though I were a noble’s child – one family took me in for three weeks thinking that if they took care of me, my family would repay them generously. Needless to say, when they found out the truth, they made sure that I would never try that scheme again. My back is still scarred from that particular encounter.

Once, when I was sixteen, I tried to become a soldier in the army – I figured it would be an easy job since there hasn’t been war in Trieste since long before my grandparents were born, but apparently the army thought the same thing and so employed only the sons of the nobles. However, I was noticed by a Duke while I was being refused into the army. This Duke, Duke Derantuous, happened to overhear my especially witty remarks about the policy of the army. He immeadiately grabbed me and asked me some questions. I answered him truthfully, although it wasn’t because I was scared that I would rot in a dungeon; it was because he was a high official, and my opinion of the government at that point in time was very positive (if you exclude the army). Anyway, Duke Derantuous ended up offering me a job in the Grand Castle. In fact, my job was one of utmost importance: I was to become the Regal Overseer, and I was to oversee the King himself. When I asked what exactly this entailed, he refused to answer, saying that it was a very secretive job and I would have to accept before he explained. Well, being that I was sixteen, and also that I had been living in the streets for two years, I quickly accepted. He told me to report to the castle gates the next morning and went on his way. Little was I to know where this job would take me.

08 January, 1999

...afraid of me.

[As copied from the journal of one of my early girlfriends.]

I understand fully his want of another. How else would it be? I have been raised in a fairy-tale world where all is goodness and light. Where love is faithfulness and marraige is an eternal bond. He distrusts me. He can not rid his mind of my mother, of the idea that I am exactly like her. He still believes that I will leave him, that I cannot truly love him. He expects hurt and disloyalty, what reason does he have to give up his previous life? Why should he believe that my love is any different, exceptional in any way? He has grown to associate "love" with violence, violence with fear. It hurts me deeply to know what he has gone through, even deeper to watch him cower in a corner...afraid of me. I want him to know my love, not fear it. I want him to allow himself freedom...to learn to trust...to receive love. I need him to know how I feel. I need him to believe that I will never lie to him. I need him to trust me.

07 January, 1999

I'm ready for this to be over with.

[As copied from the journal of one of my early girlfriends.]

I'm ready for this to be over with. I'm tired of feeling useless, worthless, I'm tired of doing everything wrong. I'm becoming apathetic, the one quality I hate the most. I hurt my love constantly because of my lack of self control, and I feel a tremendous sense of guilt. To have the knowledge that it is I whom is to blame I who has ruined his dream world. I have shattered the dreams of the one whom I love and he is beginning to lose all hope. I am the one to introduce him to a reality which he hates, it is my doing and soon he shall resent me for it. I can feel it. I do not blame him. I blame myself for the greatest mistake I could ever make. God, please let him forgive me, let him continue to love me. I cannot do it alone. Eric, I need you... I love you.