When I feel like writing. [Laszlo's Journal]

[Laszlo]

Maybe I should write this down. This reality doesn't seem to end, and there's no one I can talk to. None of this world's characters truly feel like people to me. I feel as though I'm locked in a dream, and that the people I meet are merely constructs, figments of my own imagination. I woke in this world one freezing day, treading water and fearing for my life. Every moment since then has been… Felt? What am I trying to say? I'm not a fool. I know what I am, and I know what has happened to me. The word is "Ethaefal," which I learned from Harold Fenwick in Syliras. My soul ascended into the domain of Syna, the Sun Goddess, an unknown amount of time ago, although I've estimated it to be roughly thirty years. It was my reward, after several lifetimes of piety and faith. But now I'm here again. I understand that, although I don't understand why. Yet I still can't attach myself to the mortal world as I must have done before. In my previous lifetimes I belonged here. I was bred here, it was all I knew. But now I… I've seen BETTER than this place, and I BELONG there. Something inside me waits to return to Syna, to lose this fleshy shell and be pure again. That's what I feel like all the time. Like this is the in-between. I'm here, just waiting. It's like being at someone else's workplace. There are duties to be done, protocols to be followed, rules to obey, and routines to be respected. But because I don't belong here, I feel as though none of these things should apply to me. Logically I know that I'm a mortal as everyone else is, but why is it so hard to BELIEVE it? No, I do know why. I'm better than this place. Better than everyone, better than Mizahar. I'm a child of Syna. But I… I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. I've considered taking my own life and sending my soul back to the ukalas but… is that where it would go? Or would I simply vanish? Would I return to Syna, or would I be reborn again in this world, oblivious to who I am? Goddess… I pray to you for answers every day. You remain radiant, but silent, like a mother apprehensively watching her son reaching tentatively into a fire, knowing that some lessons are best learned through experience. Sometimes I wish I were still in Kalinor. Duvalyon always had so little to say, but he listened well. I'd always know what to think, based on whether he raised an eyebrow in intrigue or scowled in disappointment. You were the first person who felt real to me, Duvalyon. I couldn't stay in Kalinor, but I hope to meet you again. I feel as though I've changed since I first met you. I wonder what you'll think of me, in the coming years? Ha. Earthly concerns. So trivial, and yet… 30th day of Fall, in the year 511 after the Valterrian