I hope you guys like this. Just so you know, I don't hate Pewdiepie. I'm just sick of his fandom being confused with the Amnesia fandom, that's all. Two separate fandoms, people! Both awesome, but separate.
Enough with that. Hey...do I need to make my chapters longer? Maybe the notebook I'm writing this in is too small. It looks pretty long in there.
November 1828
Maybe you've noticed that I don't write as much as other people who keep journals. I know others write several times a week, even daily...but I've been trying to save ink and paper. Even this book was enough extra money to spend, and I can't afford to be blowing money on this. A couple times a month should be enough to have a good record for the history books.
The weather has grown colder as winter approaches and I now have another thing to add to my list of chores: keeping the fire. I always have a lantern and candles lit in my room to keep out the dark, however, so the fire's not too much of a challenge.
I always spend more time with Hazel in the winter, for she is sometimes frail and I feel as though I have to be by her side lest she let her strength fail her. I read to her whenever I can, though I wish I had more time to do so between school, work, chores, and helping Father. I urge her not to forget the stories with hope she'll pull through if she keeps them in mind.
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The days grow darker as December approaches. Now is the time for me to describe yet another part of myself for the history books, but a part that I'm a bit ashamed of and one that few others are aware of. If anyone found out, especially Henry Bedloe, it would be...bad. But this journal is more important than that, and besides—no one is even aware of this book save myself.
I must admit that I do not like the dark. I'm not afraid of monsters...not really. I suppose one day I'll be running from monsters in the dark, but not now. Now, it's more that I fear being trapped in the dark forever.
It's all because of an incident that happened shortly after Mother left. I wasn't used to Father being drunk and easily provoked, and I accidentally broke one of the pottery pieces in his shop. It didn't take long for him to drag me back home and lock me in the closet...in complete darkness...for hours. I can't say for sure how much time passed since I didn't see the sun for quite some time. For a while I thought he'd forgotten me or purposely left me there to die. But eventually he did let me out, and I haven't dealt well with the darkness since. Sometimes it's difficult to walk the streets at night, even with a lantern.
This is another thing Hazel would be better off not knowing. She views me as a parent of sorts; I can't be afraid of anything.
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Went to the market to stock up on food before winter arrives. The food's always better if you buy it before the blistery winds hit—it's much fresher.
When I was out I also stopped at the library to return the books we have and pick up new ones. I grabbed some storybooks for Hazel and a few on history for myself: I've recently become fascinated by ancient history and ruins of civilizations long ago buried by time.
Sadly I don't know a whole lot about ancient history as I write; we actually don't own any books save an old collection of fairy tales I've read to Hazel so often she's nearly memorized it. But I definitely plan to do a great deal more reading. Knowledge is a wonderful source of joy for me. It sounds crazy, but I'd very much like to attend university someday. Of course, Father would definitely want me to stay an artisan, and no one as poor as me has ever gone as far as I'm aware, but...one can dream.
This chapter = slightly longer than the last. Hopefully this is a little more fleshed out than my previous chapters. Thanks for reading. As always, writing tips encouraged.
