WHY CAN'T I BREATHE, EVIL ANGEL.

Today marks the anniversary of my parents' deaths. Eighteen years ago today. But it's not just that. It marks the beginning of my journey. My journey to early adulthood. My journey to a life of crime. My journey to apathy. I'm a living example of what having a lack of parents can do to someone's mental and physical health.

Would I go back in time and stop them from dying? With every fiber of my being. Would I go back and punish their killer? No. I'm a fairly firm believer in karma. He'll get what's his. What I don't understand is how people can kill or use violence to subdue others. It affects not only that person, but many more. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned.

Would I give up my life in the Outlands to be born to some Utopian? To that I say: Hell no. I love my fellow Outlanders. We understand what life is really about. Utopians sit on their high pedestals, looking down on us. You know what I think? I think they're all fucking delusional. They think isolating a whole group of people just because they don't want to join their idiotic, bland Utopia is a good idea. Then they call us the criminals! Well, I embrace the criminal lifestyle whole-heartedly! I couldn't be any happier. I run this town. I've got connections everywhere. I've got money and power. I'm not a queen or anything, but I may as well be. If I were a queen, though, I wouldn't be the giving, charitable person I am today!

My thoughts are a little jumbled today (as they are every day), so I guess this is just a random thought. What makes a person my friend? At what point do I begin to trust them, if I ever do? Is it when they return a favor? When they stay by my side, even through a tough time? I've never truly had a friend. I've had guild mates, bed mates, room mates, parents, but never friends. Ha - maybe that's what's wrong with me. Perhaps people have considered me a friend, but I don't know of anyone I would call more than an acquaintance or a colleague. Well, there is one person, actually. I don't know what category he falls under. He isn't exactly a colleague because he doesn't work for me. However, I consider him maybe something other than an acquaintance. Not a friend, yet not an acquaintance. It's strange. Oh well. I never can understand these relationship things!

I suppose I should be mourning now, instead of writing in a journal. After eighteen years, I'm almost completely numb to their murder. I realized that, at five years old, I really knew nothing about them and they knew nothing about me. I would have liked to grown up with parents, of course, but there's no point in dwelling on the past. They're dead. Not getting any deader. I might as well live before I'm dead! I know plenty of people who would see me deceased, anyways.

Okay, so, enough of that sad shit. I need to go count my money again. And maybe bathe in it. And then spend it. Have I told you how much I like money? Maybe I'll just go "acquire" some more!

Much love,
--_Arrow-->