Until He Comes Back, You Will Be Out of Sight and Out of Mind (America)

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19 November, 1899

        Dear Diary, my boss noticed how much time I've been spending in my room and asked me what the reason was. He pointed to you and assumed you were a book. It didn't matter if you were a book or not, he ordered me to store you away where I wouldn't remember you for a spell and focus more on what was happening in the country than focusing on what's happening in here. I didn't want to, but I didn't want to pique him anymore than he was at the time. My writing on this entry will be short, you see, I have familiarized with exceeding my words under seven-hundred. I will end this by quoting the first oversea letter I acquired from Matthew promptly five days ago, "Dear Alfred, if you're reading this, I'm predicting you have discovered the reason for my disappearance. I deeply apologize that my absence has perturbed you in any way and was uncalled for. Unfortunately your entry extended a week too late, and decisions had been settled. I'd like for you to know my thoughts on your accomplishment on here since confabulating with you when I return is really a  poor act. Would you still be in favor of engaging in a conversation about something you've surpassed years ago? I don't know because I'm not you, obviously. That was humor if you couldn't tell, I'm not implying that you didn't know that I wasn't you. This became abruptly harsh, sorry. I'm proud that you're now recognized as a growing World Power. I'm confident that one day you will be the highest in the world of something, just wait and see! I bet twenty on this!  Getting back on topic, I confess I am terrified with this mission, or as my minister would like to label it, 'volunteer work'. Yet I hope you understand I've also been assigned to maintain our current relations with the main country at war with the people in South Africa. Although we both know this is my very first time being deployed overseas to a place unknown, I ask that you will promise not to brood over me. The last thing I'd want you to gain from this letter is morose, and I'm trying my best to keep this mood happy or along those lines. By now I'm capable of holding a gun and shooting a considerably far distance. My instructor specialized me in sharpshooting, so expect me to be positioned in the rear of my team. It's in the least a tad safer there, so let those words envelope you in assurance. Throughout my whole participation here I'll perform with all the information, tactics, and advice you've given me based on your experiences with battles fought in your past. As much as it scares me, it will equally aid me. Wish me luck on this dangerous trip, I can sense when you're luck has been sent (or I think I can); either a prayer or another kiss like the one you gave me when you left. By the way, what was occupying your mind when you did that? We can talk about it later.

Your friend, Matthew"

Quote-on-quote. I laughed a little when he asked what was occupying my mind when I kissed his forehead. Said before, it was a method of soothing him since all else failed. I need to take Matthew's word for it, he'd be sad if I didn't. I'll say my prayer to him after I conclude this entry, heck, even throw in what he said at that last part, "or another kiss like the one you gave me when you left." Hear how innocent he is, diary. Now I want you to compare how he'll be once he comes back. Will he still be the same? I'm leaning more on the doubting side. No one can stay innocent forever, it will fall someday. Exactly from the stories I've read about the Roman Empire, anything deteriorates, and there's no way of evading it. Just like me, it's the forbidding truth.

Your keeper, Alfred 

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