February 13th, 2009
Oh, diary, how many times will I write to you with this crisis?
I honestly don't know what to do...I am still hopelessly enamoured with Capriol,
more enamoured than I have ever been in my short life.
Do I really want to give that up? If I sought the company of another, would the
torture of loving Capriol ever stop?
Do Capriol and I really have that much in common?
Even if we don't, after all this?
All the words, the music, the tears that Capriol has drawn out fom me!
Would I really want to consort with a man I don't love as much as Capriol?
I don't deny I have suitors of my own, but Capriol is the man that I,
in these very pages, pledged the rest of my life to.
Alas, he would never pledge back. I am horrid. I know it and so does God and my conscience.
I wish Capriol didn't hate me and that he would just leave me in peace.
I dwell upon these schemes in which I take on someone who fancies me in an
attempt to make Capriol jealous or at least to dispel of the suspicion
that I have feelings for him.This is proof enough of my horribleness.
I am evil enough to use the emotions of another human being to disprove romantic
feelings for my only one. Oh, what would become of me if such things came to light!