My heart aches. This bitterness is surely turning my blood black. As black as the ink I endlessly draw upon parchment. It never ends. The labor. The suffering. The indignity. The loneliness. Lately it has been so bad that I have been crying myself to sleep. The empty bed where a body should be feels like the physical manifestation of a pain I know not how to articulate. A deep wound that I am reminded of with each beat of my heart.
It is as though there is a storm within my body. Dark clouds, filled with water that is only released through my tears. They rub against one another, creating a thunder that I might release from my body in a primal scream, were my body capable of doing so. I can feel the lightning flicker in my eyes as it ruins the hair I have worked so tirelessly to put into place. It swirls about in a wind so savage that one would think it impossible for me to stand still. But on the surface I maintain the calm of a lake which lies undisturbed by the spring breeze.
It is at its worst during the night. Even as Spring begins to warm the mountains, and the daylight blesses Artemesia more tomorrow than it did yesterday, my bed is always so cold. Why is it that I feel this way? Because my peers ignore me? I have no wealth of friends waiting for me at Saptagiri. Because I am disrespected? Perhaps, but such petty concerns do not tend to shake me so violently. Is it because I
What manner of beast is this, which lies within my spirit? From whence does it come? For how long has it dwelt there? A beast most foul, which beckons for impossibilities. I must crush it. It cannot be allowed to persist. Its very name is loathsome to me, for it seeks to disrupt a peace which I have long enjoyed. I shall not suffer it to ruin this peace. It cannot be. It is a trick of the night, an idle thought of a weary heart. An illusion. Perhaps if I ignore it, it shall vanish.
Fie upon the very thought of it! This hateful beast, far beyond the grace of a name. I shall wrap it in chains and cast it upon the bile in the pit of my contempt. It has surely been the howling of this beast which has disrupted my sleep. A selfish beast that grows unruly when its impossible demands lie unsatisfied. I will destroy you! I shall not suffer it for this beast to show itself upon my face -- to consume my idle thoughts! I will not be conquered by such devilish wiles. I will not suffer the indignity. O, nameless beast, you shall not unmake me!