#journ;al

It’s been 50 years. I’ve moved back to my home country and oh how it’s changed... Though I miss my home, my family finally started to outgrow me and the humans in their ignorance, finally started to notice. It actually hurt this time... moving on. Destroying any remains of my past life – My life as Jia is over – I think somewhere in my heart I came to love my false family... for all their frailty and imperfections. Being with them kept my mind from lingering on what my life use to be... and for a moment, I was truly content with just that.

Now, I have nothing... I am Seojin now. The daughter of a scholar, a new character who’s too ill to spend much time outside, my face remains mystery, and spends most of my day with poetry and art. I can’t say I’m too upset the sudden change – Jia was such a social butterfly. – But... I dread getting close to another once more. I dread the servants, my new father, even the husband I must eventually take... because if I dare let myself love once more... I doubt I can handle it’s loss.

I tire of these games. My life has become such a routine that if it weren't for the different faces and names, I’d think it all just a dream and lose myself like so many of my kind has done already. I am lonely in a house constantly buzzing with life, and plagued by my husband, who has become my father, ascending to grandfather, to ancestor. It’s always the same.

I suppose I must look for another now, my own darling is already beginning to age past me, soon we will not match and again I most tamper memories and promote his role.... For myself... a new name, a new personality, but still the same fake smile.

Oh journal if I could but happen across my maker again and be lost in bliss like I use to in my younger years. Let the time fly and I can just be...happy, but alas that’s the dreams of a child not yet grown from her mothers bosom. I sigh in pain because I know now that my immortal life is all but glass for everyone to view and me not to honestly enjoy.

It is a strange feeling to be the artist, coating this odd parchment in a strange combination of symbols, but I must admit to myself.. and to you most of all journal. I fear. I have come to terms that it is in the human nature to desire conflict, and to pursue war. Peace is but the element to drive a soldier and his supports to work harder. A illusion to keep up morale. We are enjoying peace and as I walk down the path and meet others, it is merely not enough.

There is something missing, a craving I can almost smell on their species. The next war will probably be swift. Some dictator trying to oppress our freedom, and yes.. even one such as me fears. With every coming battle, new instruments of death are brought to light – So creative the mind can be – and I find myself wondering ‘Will this finally be the end of my life?’ Who would of thought that one such as me truly wishes to live.

I fear for my books, I fear for my knowledge, my life, and the pitiful lives of those around me. The silly slaves and my silly husband. I must take to town.. and hear the words from the lips of someone more in touch with news than I. If I must uproot my family for safety then I shall do so, or pray the enemy’s knocking on our lands do not meet my wrath. If a thief threatening to steal from us will die by my hand, I pity the fool threatening the lives I own......