I’ve been fighting it, but I have gotten sleep. What I have fallen in to has been short and unfulfilling, though. I’m afraid I must surrender soon, or I will lost all mental capacity. My mind is quickly losing its ability to focus and perceive sensations. Even now, I cannot fully enamor myself with my diary. Its as if everything I turn to begins to move farther from me. If only slumber didn’t mean succumbing to the darkness. If only I could some how retain awareness and security without the attention of my mind. But such are mere fantasies. I must face reality – a mortal reality.
Though my attention is often detached at best, I have managed to read on through some of my other books. One story that continues to strike me every new development is the story I spoke of previously. The young Raven has now become a teenager after hiding away with the seer for many years. He reminds me of myself when I was his age in fact. When I was hopeful; when I was ambitious; when I was loved. His adventures spark a longing, a longing too close to home. He battles with bandits. He fights evil and tyranny. I still remember clearly the days when my father and I would sit around the hearth and he would recall tales of his adventures. Tales of his own battles and chivalry. Why must I see him in everything when I cannot see him?
Though the darkness lingers, I must make an attempt to rejuvenate myself. I am too feeble from depravation and starvation. I must sleep.
