~ Crumpled up note lying on the side of the road ~
I've got one hell of a headache, my body's sore and it feels if a goblin just shat in my mouth.
That was the last time I get so blastedly plastered...
I mean, honestly, think now a little more clearly, use the gnoggen you were given other then drown your thoughts with drink - try at least.
If it wasn't for the fact that their ghost still haunt me, It'd make it so much easier. Not that I'm saying I won't enjoy the fine luxuries of a good sitting down. But to carry on like this? Like a drunken beggar on the streets, drunk as the fat bastards I hate. I can't expect to escape what happened, I'd have to get over my unfortunate musing now once and for all. Face the past, face reality, stand up from this filthy, reeking, shit infested gutter.
It's the least I can do for her now that she's gone, for my sister.
This has gone on far enough, I have to do something... other then get another ale, I mean.
Things have been happening, unfolding, cascading and unwrapping within me ever since that fateful day she got murdered right before my eyes. It wasn't a pretty sight, they wanted me to see her suffer, they wanted me to witness my failure; they wanted me to know what I did wrong by not taking that girl. What they got right, was a blade in the back. I made sure I killed every last sick one if them. And today, even today, as I sit here and write this note - for what reason I don't know - I still feel the satisfaction just as I did that fated moment I slit their throats. I can still smell their fear, their stench still lingers. But also, so does her screams, her pleads, her tears still haunt my waking thought. What consolidation does a man have if vengeance were already bestowed upon those he swore to justice, but to desperately try to escape the past in finding a future.
I've found one can run as fast as you want, one can escape the place of your birth, but never, doesn't matter how many a mug you force down, you still remember your failures.
The mead has been a welcome friend when I needed it, but I now seek something more real, a purpose. Is that not what we all search for in the end? A glimmer of hope, the faint light of meaning?
Guess a mug can only last this long.
Gods, how many times have I not said this before....
