Turning a new leaf
"I am proud, if not joyous to be the daughter of Anik Kadam. You can't recite the definition of loyalty, bravery, kindness, honesty, comfort, or dedication without including major life events in my father's life. For he may have seen more lives lost during pointless battles, upheld by inconsiderate fools operating under the common illusion of self pronounciation, but he recently told me that if an outcome as wonderful as the one he has now could be acheived differently, he would rather go through it all again."
-daughter of a blessed man
This book was given to me three minutes ago by my father to heighten the feeling of relief shoud I need to vent, or report on something worth writing about. But amusement courses through me, mingling with teasing bites of dissappointment at his obliviousness. He hadn't yet found the scars...
I know I should be the one to announce their presence. It's how I was taught. My way of thinking. Always put first above the will to be secretive. The latter has now become my first instinct.
At night, using the last moonrise as an exampled, I lay awake in near blackened surroundings. The house I reside in isn't what has my blood churning. The cause of my alertness to the shadows and presences within them. At first, I thought of it as an afteraffect from puberty. Mood swings, and all that. But this has been on repeat for the past three weeks... And I'm tired, but can't find the mindset to relax...
