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I thought I would nay be able to start writing again. There is still a heap of sorrow and anger filling me, but I missed the chance to pour out my thoughts for myself. My old journal is nearly in tatters, partly from months of use and partly from the angry writings on its final pages. I didn't mean to pick up this new book, but it called to me. Just wandering the Exodar's shopkeepers this dazzlingly blue cover caught my eye. The silver tracery along the edge gives it a magical look and the pages are pristine white. I'm glad I found it, like a new, old friend. Now, I sit here trying to pull my scattered thoughts together but my pen refuses to write. Sifar, what have ye gotten yourself into? *a few wet drops are evident in the ink* I still cannot believe what has transpired...refuse to believe that I was so thoroughly duped. Yet, I also refuse to believe that my feelings were un-true. I may have loved something that was false, but I loved. Will I ever see him again? Will I be able to without bashing his skull in? Will Light ever forgive me? Someone asked me for help this evening. I simply de-activated my stone. I don't want to face anyone yet.