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Father finally sent an owl today. It was short, as usual, so I know he's traveling around on business.


I can't put into words what happened with Evan. I know I shouldn't have. At least not with him, but my body wouldn't say no. It wasn't as if I could have said no if I wanted to. And I didn't. I can only hope that it isn't a one time thing. I couldn't handle it if it were.

It doesn't help that I seem to be developing feelings for Miles. Missing him is only the latest stage of those feelings. I can't miss him. I can't love him.

I won't love anyone. The last person said "I love you" to died and I won't do that again.

Perhaps it's time for some more poetry. Or even some Christopher Marlowe.


"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.—
Her lips suck forth my soul; see where it flies!—
Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
Here will I dwell, for heaven be in these lips,
And all is dross that is not Helena."
From the play "The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus" by Christopher Marlowe

I suppose I've been reading too much lately, but I have nothing better to do in this place.

Father's been acquiring books from the 1800s for me as of late. Anything I fancy. He actually sent two with his owl. And they are quite beautiful to be so old. A little yellowing, but in very good condition. I can't wait to read them.