Araphel

It feels nostalgic writing here, after so long. Has it been a year? Part of me wants to rip out all of the older pages. Start fresh.

After seeing my last entry, though. I don't think I will.

There's something to be gained from knowing your past, what you're made of and from whence you came.
I wouldn't have believed the same person possessed this diary, had I not known. I'll admit, when Sebby proposed this idea, I wasn't fond of it.
After all, a diary is a booklet with a person's every thought and whim written down, immortalized, in a sense.

That isn't a smart thing to do when you're being pursued, condensing all of your secrets in one easy-to-reach place.

Having said that, I've since come around. I don't think I'd stomach writing daily, but once, on my birthday? That's manageable.
Before I get into it, should anyone actually find this, chronicle what it says. Just know I didn't hide these things because I wanted to.


So! I had my first birthday as a (as of writing this) out and proud Newsteadian. It's been... three months, four? Since Seb and I moved here. There was trouble from day one, a big monstrous devil tree that was painting the town red.
Malicious, angry red. The one's who vanquished it are also the pair I wound up befriending. I say that. Things were rocky for awhile.
They could still be, really.

I reunited with Zippy, too! I think it was just as strange for me to see her out of... 'that' life. As much as it'd been a shocker for her to witness me doing stuff like. Eating tacos.
She's the person who most understands how I feel, about coming here.
For her sake, I wish it was different. She's staying with me right now, so if I play my cards right. I might be able to help her. Get her confidence back, make her remember how fun it was to be a notorious badass.

Or would I be doing that for myself?

Perhaps she doesn't want to remember. She's trying so hard, we all are.
I'll figure something out. She'll be alright, better than.


Now, to the meat of my thoughts, I guess. I like him. I really do.
That much, I can admit to myself.

He makes me laugh. He transforms in the worst of places. He's terrible at lying. The way he shrugs his shoulders and ducks his head when he's shy or unsure about something. Other times, he'll turn into a prickly thorn bush, and I am just masochistic enough to find it marvelous, gleeful of every pinprick and burr.

I think I'm having an out-of-body experience. I can't believe I just wrote that.
No point erasing it.
He knows how I feel, I haven't been subtle about it. I thought I would be sad when eventually it was proven that we weren't compatible. I was, when it happened. But now. Now. Maybe. Possibly? Per chance. It may not entirely be beyond hope. If that IS the case, sadness is replaced with fear.

How can I truly embrace him, after everything I've done, and continue to do? I am under no delusion. This will always be who I am. No matter how far I get.
Honestly? I am not afraid of whether or not he'll reciprocate.


I'm afraid of what he'll see.

I've already resolved to talk with him about it. Not yet. Survival instincts or no. There shouldn't be any rush.


That's it, mostly. I mainly talked about relationships. See how much I've changed? Or it's the new freedom to. Be me. Which is it's own sort of frightening.
Scared or not, they all deserve the best.

Maybe I do, too.