I cried on this damn book again. Didn't end well. I lost the last entry. Dissolved. Inky words looked like they were eating each other. Evil.
You know, I don't even have ink. Not where I am right now. You probably can't tell. What you think is ink? Water plant. It's called yrikali. You probably don't care.
I don't really feel like writing the last entry again. Hit me hard. Like I said before.
Sorry, sweetheart.
YOU ARE READING
The Memoirs of Theolon
FantasiaGo away. I don't want you reading this. It wasn't meant for you. Frankly, it wasn't made for anyone else, either. I didn't write this for any sole purpose other than to keep myself sane during the millennia I spent deserted and alone. I wrote this...
