stupid pirates

Dear Diary,

I give up.

No, I really do.

I can't go one night in this damned city without everything falling to pieces, but at least this time, I know that it wasn't actually my fault. For once, I can look around me and say, "No, this was definitely not my doing."

*the entire page is smeared with blood and sweat. The entry was written immediately after "A Rogue and a Whip" took place. Unlike other entries in the diary, this one is disjointed and messy, smudged. There is no order to the thoughts as they are written*

 (( soundtrack: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eB7T3lJ3dZ4 ))

It's my fault

It's my fault

IT'S MY FAULT

[warning: the following account depicts self-flagellation in graphic detail. Viewer discretion is advised]

Dear Diary,

Am I a good person?

Dear Diary,

What a week. I need to learn to be a better decision-maker and person-truster. Not that I ever should've trusted a pirate to begin with, but that's neither here nor there. Can't change the past, after all.

I don't want to think about this week, but I have to think about it, I have to write it down because I don't want to forget it. No, that's not right. I do want to forget it, but I know that I shouldn't.