This room is oppressive. It's bland, lifeless walls and ceilings are disconcerting to say the least. The only thing that gives some relief to my eyes is the banner of my nation hanging on the wall.
My nation. I really have no right to call it "my nation". I haven't set foot on the mainland in two years. Banished. So, seeing as I have no home to return to, much less a throne to claim, I have no right to call it "mine".
But then again, is anything really anybody's? We say we own something, but it can't possible last forever. Or ourselves for that matter. It's like hope. Or the words, "I love you." They're just prayers, selfish pretenses. It can't possibly last forever.
Speaking of things not lasting forever, it angers and confuses me to no end as to why the Fire Nations continues with this silly war. What with the return of the Avatar, we surely won't win. We'll be bankrupt after paying all of the war repercussions. Land will be taken away, titles stripped. Our people, my people, will starve.
I hate my position. It I should ever capture that nimble little devil, my place on the throne will be restored and as soon as my father passes away, the war and all of its stupidity will pas on to me. Joy.
Sometimes I wish that I could just give up. Dismiss my men, sell my ship, and go live on some remote little islands. Tranquility is what I long for the most now. Peace, rest, and calm. Some down time. No more training. No more searching. No more war. Silence and peace. However, until the gods tire of their relentless games to degrade and belittle me or some other miracle occurs, I'll continue. I have nothing else.
I blink my eyes, finally realizing that I've been staring vacantly up at the ceiling without blinking. I shut my eyes tightly, hoping to regain some moisture I reopen them and survey my familiar surroundings. Gray, gray, red, black, gray.
This room is oppressive.