Victor Newsorre

I was never ‘good enough’. I enjoyed poetry rather than sword fighting. I liked riding horses not for the journey’s outcome but for the view along the way. Which is why I’m not the most popular of me and my two brothers. I don’t blame Elias for my loneliness. I see how hard he works. I don’t blame Felix for taking away mother. I’ve heard his lamenting. So maybe…It is my fault for how I am. Why I, simply, have no one. But this next ball— I have a feeling. Maybe I will find someone. Oh, though I do say that every time. Silly me. Wishing for a spark with another person. My apologies, dearest Diary. I’m only wallowing in self-pity. I must be boring you. Let me talk about this week’s accomplishments, to heighten the mood. I finished three poems as of the past seven days. I had finally gotten more fabrics for sewing. Father doesn’t approve of this hobby, but what does he approve of? Ah…That is it. Other than following daily routine, I had done nothing else out of the ordinary. Not my best week. Diary, I am back to self-pity. I yearn for someone special. I imagine one who would be as soft as my sweetest poems. Whose eyes would be so entrancing I would never be able to look away. Someone that would love me even though no one else does. I’m afraid it is time for dinner, Diary. This log will have to end here. Wish me luck on tomorrow’s ball. Victor