//------------------------------//
// Entry #33 June 30, 2190 
// Story: Starswirl's Journal 
// by AlesFlamas 
//------------------------------//

Five months. Five months since I set hoof in this palace. Five months since I allowed myself to be subjugated and humiliated and various other negative past-tense verbs. Five months since I realized my life was a lie. I'm no longer angry that I was lied to. Nor have I surpassed anger. But I am dreadfully depressed, and I fear that if I don't find some way to alleviate my dreary mood, it will bleed out into my occupation. And there is nothing less entertaining than a depressed buffoon. Buffoon. . . to think that I would refer to myself as such.

Perhaps it would be for the best that my sadness makes itself known. If one such as I, at my age, cannot find his purpose and is instead forced to occupy himself as the king's personal fool perhaps death would be best for me. Because that surely would be my punishment for failing to perform my job: death. At least. . . I believe that's a crime worthy of execution. Honestly I don't know. There is so much I don't know. . .