some little fic. (original) (raw)
Dear Diary,
Home is where the heart is. That is what I have always believed. So I am here. This place I know. A place I love.
But it is not the same. Or I am not. I have only been gone a short time. Who knew. So much could change. Yet it all looks the same. The woods I grew up in. The house I called home. The people I shared my life with. All so different. Yet so much the same.
I know it is me who has changed. The sword at my hip is what has done it. Even now I feel its weight. Pulling me. Reminding me. This is no longer where I belong. At least not now. When I do not know.
When will I return here? When will it feel like home again? Will it ever be the same? These questions I have no answers for.
Kahlan finds it dull here. So far removed from the places and people she is used to. She doesn’t say it. But I know. Can see it in her eyes. So full of unspoken words. So tired. Of this mundane backwater. Like a village she has visited a million times before. Bleeding into all the others. Only here because of duty. To me. To the quest. Constantly ready. Willing. Longing. To return to her own home. Where her heart truly belongs.
And I wonder. If this isn’t enough. Will I ever be enough? For her? So many things keep us apart. Make it forbidden. Dangerous. Exciting. Strip it all back. What is left? Really? Just a simple boy. From a simple place. I could never fit into her world. Of dignitaries and diplomacy. Meetings and masquerades. Her life is so different. From what I have ever experienced. I wonder if our worlds could ever collide. Mingle. Coexist. If not for the quest. This enforced destiny we both have.
Experience. That is the key. The thing that separates all other things. What makes a person, place, creature different. What we have experienced. Gone through. Suffered through. And the experiences we are willing to let ourselves have.
And I have experienced more than I ever thought possible. More than I ever knew there was. And so I have changed. As much as I cling to this. To my old ways. The old ideas. The ideal of home. I have been forced to change. To grow. Some way. But I know I am not done yet. I have a long way to go. And I fear. Sometimes late at night. That I will not like how I turn out. I am growing too fast. In so many directions. That I will end up twisted.
Zedd tells me I am good. That we fight for the greater good. But each time I swing my sword I feel it. Each time it cuts down a body. Pierces armor. Draws blood. I feel it. That part of me. That inch. The part that should never change. Never thought it could change. It slips away. Piece by piece. Little by little. I am losing my soul. My integrity. That place inside me. That loved and laughed and lived. That was born here. In this place. Slowly dies. Hacked away by my own sword. On some distant battle field. In some foreign land. Where it can be at peace forever. As I slip into darkness.