Exiled. Banished. Forbidden. Forever left to myself, where as before I was left to my kin. How does one live without others? The isolation and solitude I have known these many years have given me no answer. I have lived without others only for the guilt that I harbour within me. Living is my punishment, living in the solitude. I could have ended this long ago. One blade, one vial, one final leap. It could have ended.
It could have ended far faster if I were mortal.
But I am bound, not only by my law, but my own free will. I will live this life alone.
How does one judge the worth of a life? By what one does, says, or creates? I would like to think so. But...no. The worth of a life is measured in death. How one dies. Who one kills. Death is the ultimate judgement. And, though I yearn for it, that judgement, that final sleep, I cannot have. I will not allow it. Suicide? Coward. Murdered? Weak. No...not weak. For then Ionelien... His judgement would have differed greatly. He is honoured and praised, his life held in reverence for the way his life was taken. Murdered? Pity. Pity for the life taken, hatred for the taker of it.
And exile.
Exile and guilt and pain and hatred. Emotional turmoil, eternal disquiet. How my soul weeps for that day. I would weep, if my kin and I were able to. Yes, I would weep a thousand tears, and a thousand more after that. If anything would undo what I have done, undo the blood on my hands. Give back the love and friendship I lost in one eternal moment, and I would tear down the stars.
But I want what I cannot have. I want redemption; I want forgiveness; I want death. I am forbidden to speak my tongue in defense of myself, none would listen anyways. And death... It is only a pleasant dream. One unreachable dream. Hand me the moon, it would be so much easier. Kiss the stars, it's that much closer.
So how does one live without others? The answer may yet reveal itself to me. The only answer I have known thus far is this: He doesn't.
