May 14
As you well know, this book is filled with secrets. Secrets no one should ever know. Only last week did I write a (rather long, if I may say so myself) hate entry dedicated to Lieutenant Gillette. And who knows how many unsent love letters reside in this book? All of my true feeling, my emotions, are entered into this journal and serve as a harsh reminder for the reality I must live in...I'm sorry. I digress from the true matter at hand. What this journal entry really is about is angels and the life after this one. You see, I had an encounter yesterday. I know what you're thinking; heavy stuff for a simple man like myself, right? Truth be told, I never believed in supernatural anything. Until yesterday, that is. Downright saved my life, it did.
To put it quite frankly, yesterday was the worst day of my life. Elizab...well,
Ms. Swann...left me. For Will Turner. A blacksmith! You can imagine the effect this had on me. To lose your heart just as you're realizing you had one! This is difficult and painful to admit now, but I was so distraught I actually considered...well, I considered taking my life that day. If only Father were alive to hear me now! I'd be sure to get ten strokes from that cane of his. Talk about a trip down memory lane...
I had so given up on life and love that I took my gun, re-loaded it, put it under my chin, and was just about to pull the trigger when I heard a tap on the window. I turned, expecting to see a bird, but nothing was there. Given this small opportunity to think, I realized something. Surely a suicide must be accompanied by a note! I wouldn't want my fellow officers to believe I was murdered, now would I? I wouldn't want them to assume I did this for a reason I actually did not do it for. So I figured, what the hell---it's not like my reptuation isn't ruined already. I had just been rejected by the very woman who had promised herself to me just days earlier, and in front of the very same people, nonetheless!
So I went to my desk and started writing a quick goodbye. That quick goodbye turned into a three-page rant on how much God dislikes me and how I was always destined to be a failure, like my father used to tell me. The extra time it took me to write that made me think a little bit more. This time, my thoughts were about philosophy, a topic I tended to stay away from in conversations. I wondered if there really was a God, and whether this God really wanted me to do this. I wondered if there was a reason--a higher reason--for me becoming distracted so that I couldn't kill myself. What if something did not want me to do this? I thought of my mother, who promised me at a young age that she would never leave me. My mother, who died almost two weeks after saying that. My mother, the reason for me fighting through the tough times. My mother, the bane of my existence.
And just then I had a vision of her sitting next to me, beautiful and young just like I remember her, in flowy white robes. She was smiling at me. She looked so happy, I started to weep. I prayed so hard that God would send me a sign; to send me a sign that he didn't want me to die. I wanted my mother. I wished that my mother would hold me once more, kiss me on the cheek, and promise me that everything'll be fine. I was so upset I couldn't even open the door when someone knocked on it.
It had been Governor Swann. One of the last people I wanted to see right now. He wanted to make sure everything between me and Elizabeth was fine. I, of course, assured him that I was all right, all the while hiding the gun under my leg so that he wouldn't see it. Before he left he said, "Elizabeth was worried you'd do something rash. She knows how you feel, how you have always felt, about her. She had wanted to come here herself, to talk to you, perhaps give you a hug. But she thought it'd be better to have me talk to you. She figured it was too soon. She wanted to tell you that, in time, everything will be alright."
Coincidence?
I hope not.