One thing's for sure. Necromancy is not all it's cracked up to be. Not that it's boring, really, but it does begin to take its toll on the mind after a while. It's one thing to see necromantic creations hobbling about on their own, but you tend to notice how they move when you're the one that's brought them back, and then it starts to affect you, and then you start to feel ill. I've done little more than cats at this point, but that doesn't make it any less unsettling. I'm not certain that makes much sense. Not that anything does these days.

I find I spend a lot of time daydreaming about life outside of these bloody cold walls and have been avoiding this damn journal in the hopes I could forget what I had, but I think I've finally come to accept the fact that I'm not going to forget. I've made mistakes in my lifetime, but really, Farorey. What were you thinking, love?


I haven't had sex in almost two months. What the fuck.