July 31st

Egad...it's scarcely clear the extent of one's own grief-induced intellectual impairment until he proceeds to review the rubbish he produced and evidently deemed poetry days ago. I suppose third-rate refuse is doomed to be my legacy.

On a comparable note, today I set foot outside my home for the second of two times since my birthday, though the first can hardly be counted since it pertained to the obligations of routine business in the castle, during the course of the former I encountered Carlaisle and Khloe, who had discussed our plans to return to Ohue's in Deya for my post-celebration dinner and informed me that the event would be postponed until the following weekend, due to inclement weather. Whatever, I was glad of it...and there's a subtle comfort in doing nothing but listlessly observing the elements when they are even more miserable than you. But the days slipped by once again until the new arrangements mandated my emergence. It was all I could manage to begin the dreaded trip this morning, my face pressed into Ichabod's saddle as I mustered the will to pull myself up. He kept turning to glance back at me, confused by the delay. Eventually we set off and arrived at the Mabe ranch, the designated meeting point from which Carlaisle, Khloe, Hugh, and I all traveled together the remainder of the journey. I gladly trailed in the rear, letting Ichabod do the steering while I wandered a world away.

Deya Village has, for as long as I can remember, held a well-deserved reputation as a hub of enchantment upon the lake. "Do a Day in Deya" is its tourism motto, which, if you're visiting from anywhere near Hyrule Castle Town, is a practical necessity, as it requires nearly half a day just to reach it. The hollow remains of a fallen colossal tree serve as a tunnel passage from the road into town, and the whimsical experience only grows from there, as the townsfolk make a point of embellishing everything from their homes to their businesses to their livestock with a quirky flair. In like fashion, several unique aquatic performances are offered at the lake throughout the summer. I've a number of fond memories from my previous visits, and I must admit the change in scenery today somewhat drew my focus from, as of late, the dreary norm. For but a moment here and there as I walked this wonderland, my life ceased to be an inescapable nightmare.

In contrast, our meal at Ohue's proved largely forgettable at the first. I'm afraid I've nary an inclination to include much in the way of details or dialogue except to say Khloe's mouth only ceased to make noise when she was eating. Wedding this, reception that, she blathered, to Carlaisle's increasing unease, while Hugh sat with his arms crossed, drumming his fingers on his arm. I sat in silence, nudging my pasta about my plate with my fork as I attempted to convince myself to force another bite down. In a separate sense, Hugh had reached his fill as well.

"If you're quite finished," he clipped, "I have a surprise for everyone, which just came in the door."

Carlaisle and Khloe twisted in their seats to look while Hugh raised a hand to hail his guest's attention. Even I glanced up. We were surprised indeed to see the rigid figure of Sabon standing just inside the restaurant's main entrance. He glared at everyone and everything in the establishment at once, taking only moments to catch Hugh's gesture and storming over as if intending to destroy us - but that was merely his manner of style. He jarred an empty chair from the table and landed squarely in it, his eyes falling on Hugh expectantly, who seized the cue. "Thank you for coming, Mister Turste."

Carlaisle cleared his throat. "Yes indeed, what a pleasant surprise! We certainly do appreciate your meeting with us again. I'd like you to meet my fiance Missus Bledsoe. And, Khloe, I'm sure you've seen Mister Turste at many of our concerts."

"Yes," she chimed in, "it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

"Yes, yes, yes," Sabon followed abruptly, "we can meet and greet and make small talk about the weather, but I'd just as soon get down to business." He slapped a small stack of papers on the table as the others chirped their apologies. "Here, I took the opportunity to prepare a draft composition for your project. We can review and rehearse at the local pavillion when you are finished here."

"But none of us brought our instruments!" Carlaisle stammered.

"I brought mine. Now kindly stop talking and eat so we can get this show on the road."

I skimmed through the music while the others hastened to finish their meals. Ordinarily I'd have been elated to behold a tangible aspect of our collaboration, but my heart remained far too heavy to be lifted by elements of recreational interest. I dared not spoil it for the others once again, however.

"Thank you, Mister Turste." My eyes lifted from the pages to find him staring flatly.

"Why aren't you eating?"

"I...I'm finished."

"You've barely eaten a thing," Carlaisle began to note, quickly ducking down to shovel in another mouthful as Sabon's head whipped his direction. It was the last word out of any of us until we reached the pavillion.

Far more than a music director, Sabon is a supremely talented man, a superlative capable of playing every kind of instrument ever created, and I'm convinced he owns at least one of each. My chin bobbed upon the base of his violin, failing to achieve a comfortable position, while Carlaisle likewise fumbled with an unfamiliar accordion. Thankfully the objective of this meeting was primarily to learn specific compositional techniques rather than to strictly play. Khloe and Hugh sat across from us observing intently, whispering amongst themselves as Sabon stood in the gap singling out segments of his draft for us to perform, then lectured on their key points. The longer the lessons droned on, the further my heart drifted from its dedication, having failed to embrace the cause. It must have grown increasingly obvious, as Carlaisle cast a decidedly concerned glance my way more than once. I ignored him, forcing myself to continue until Sabon suddenly slammed down an instrument case as I attempted to play, causing everyone to jump.

"If you're not going to commit yourself," he hissed at me, "why are you wasting my time, space, and air?"

"I...apologize," the words were still on my lips when he jerked the violin from my hand. I promptly surrendered the bow as well.

He nestled the instrument under his chin. "Take a seat over there." Then he turned to Carlaisle. "You too." The command met a fleeting gape, followed by hasty compliance. Carlaisle sat beside a deeply frowning Khloe, while I shuffled to the row of seats behind them. "Now," Sabon resumed, "I'm going to play The Rains of Akkala, and I want you to listen closely to the variations I'm going to implement."

The notes sliced out delicately, beautifully.

Her favorite song.

The raindrops became a torrential downpour in which my heart floundered, the water relentlessly rising until it finally spilled from my eyes. I wiped them quickly, blinking and looking up to see Sabon's stern gaze on me, though he continued without missing a stroke. When he finished, he ended the session. Everyone thanked him politely, and in typical fashion, he wasted no time assembling his possessions and making his departure. And that was that.

An awkward silence lingered between the four of us as we left the pavillion, likely stemming from their collective sympathy toward my embarrassment. We had nearly reached the inn when Khloe's voice barely rose above the chorus of frogs and crickets.

"...I was hoping to see the water puppet show tonight," she lamented mostly to Carlaisle, who rubbed his beard.

"Well, we could stay and catch it tomorrow night," he suggested.

"Oh, that would be lovely! Let's please do that!" She embraced his side, but he immediately pushed her away.

"Okay, okay. That'll do."

She turned to Hugh and me. "Would you two like to stay another day and join us?"

Hugh adjusted his spectacles, successfully sharing the sunset. "I haven't got time for puppets. I need to get going."

"Wait," Carlaisle fretted, "you're not heading back now, are you?"

"Just to Outpost. The inn's a lot cheaper there."

Khloe peered at me. "Edwin..?" I sighed inwardly as they all did, at the concern and pity that accumulated in their expressions.

"I appreciate the offer, but I really wish to head out in the morning." I sounded more like a bored child reciting a mathematical formula, but little mattered to me at this point. It had been an extremely long day, and the depression was bearing down full scale. "Thank you, everyone, for the birthday outing. I apologize that I haven't harbored the best of moods."

"Ohh," her voice wavered, and she suddenly threw her arms out, exclaiming, "group hug!" I was spared only the chance to gasp before I was subjected to the constriction of her embrace, after a moment of which she looked up. "Come on, you guys!" Next followed Carlaisle's reluctant but nevertheless crushing force, then a brief pat on the back from Hugh.

"Ugh," I grunted when the ordeal was complete. "We could have done without that."

"Yes," Hugh agreed, "enough fiddle-faddle!" He pointed an elbow before him and followed its lead toward the stable. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a sunset to ride off into!"

We all bid him good night, the remaining three of us trudging into the inn. As I made my way down the corridor to my room, I heard Khloe calling after me. "Good night, Dear. Let us know if you change your mind!" I returned no answer but merely slipped into my door and shut it gently behind me.

At last I had gotten away...and now I stared into the dimly lit silence. Eventually I seated myself on the tiny bed, its mattress as stiff as a board, where I've been reflecting on the day's events and writing in this journal since.

Sabon's words continue to claw at my soul, their sentiment ringing all too true. Anymore I'm just a waste of others' time, space, and air. My life fails to serve a purpose, my existence to hold value...and yet the solution escapes me. I don't know what to do.

Hylia...or whoever you are, wherever you are...if you can hear me, please send me a sign. Show me the way, so that I may do what's truly best.

Or just let me die.