I should not be writing this. I know that. I
would be a fool if I didn't. But I cannot bear to hold it all inside a
moment longer. Most things...most things I could. In this case, I
don't have a prayer. This isn't even something I could tell a priest, for
fear that I would cause the death of an innocent man of God whose only crime
would be to hear the confession of a woman who desperately needs to speak.
If I cannot confess to a man of God, at least I can confess to God himself and
my descendants, if I ever manage to have any, and if this book and this ship
survive our travels and adventures -- if humanity survives this war we're fighting.
I don't know if that's possible.
I know too much. I daresay I know more than most
intelligence officers about certain subjects, but only because of my
sources. I shall try not to name names in order to incriminate no one
conclusively, but I fear that if this text is ever found, then we will all be
lost for certain in any event.
We're fighting a people called the Zentraedi, out here in
space. Some of us think that the reason we're being attacked is because of
this ship, the SDF-1. They want it, for some reason, we're not quite sure
why. I'm not sure I want to know. Then again, I know a lot of things
that I never really wanted or needed to know. My world has been shattered
by this knowledge, and I now struggle to put it all back together again, piecing
together a new world and a new life for myself with the knowledge I've
attained. It's so hard, sometimes. I feel so lucky that I have
friends who can help me through all of this -- friends who can actually know
what I know, and some of them, at least, can, and do.
I know so much, and yet I cannot say what it is. So
hard...
I feel that I am falling in love and I'm unable to stop it
from happening. I've never felt so helpless, so out of control, in all of
my life. It's disconcerting. But...he knows me, for who I am, for
who I've always been. And to me...to a degree, he's an open book for me --
sometimes. I don't pry, though. It's not my place. But I think
I'm falling...and I don't know if I'm going to learn to fly before I hit the
bottom. I just have to hope, and pray.
I pray that in falling, I learn to fly.
My world keeps changing, rearranging, more complicated
every day. It's fascinating and terrifying at the same time.
I'm falling so fast, I keep wondering when I'm going to hit
bottom.
The dreams I have are terrifying. I swear that I saw my
own death the last time I dreamed, a death that was avoided, thank God, but one
that may not have been had I not known. By the heavens around me, I might
have died in one brief flare of light, and then where would everyone have been?
I've said not a word about what I saw. It's better that
way. Better that people not need to know what it is I've seen.
The wonders and horrors I've seen.
I keep fearing that when we finally make it back to Earth,
there will be no Earth to return to -- not the Earth we knew and remembered, but
a barren, wind-swept field of pain and hurt and despair.
I think about my family daily, and each day pray that they
are safe and well. Every day, though, my hopes for seeing them again die a
little more, bit by bit. I can never go home again. Too much has
changed.
None of us can ever go home again. All we can do now is
live and hope to make a new home wherever we are, with whomever we're
with. If that is our fate, then that is our fate. And I'll be damned
if I let anyone destroy my home.
I've finally figured out why I am the way I am -- why
people think of me the way they do. It's a defense mechanism, my cold,
nasty exterior is. A defense mechanism to prevent me from getting too
close to anyone. Because when you get right down to it, you never know
who'll be next to show up on the operating table, and it's always harder to
handle it when it's your friend.
Hell. I let my guard down once, and look what
happened. I went and fell in love. Funny, that, and sad. How
many chances have I let slip through my fingers because all I've ever done is
pushed people away?
Maybe I finally have a chance, knowing now what I know, to
fix it all. I can let people in -- losing them will hurt, and I know that
now, but I have to wonder whether the times I spend with them now will make up
for the pain of their loss. I guess I'll never really know. What I
know now is that I've been offered a chance by the powers that be to open up to
the rest of the world, to allow myself to feel something. And I think
maybe I'll finally be able to take that chance.
I'm stronger now. I wonder how strong I can be.
I almost lost him. I don't know what I would have
done if I had. He means the world to me, and I don't know if I could've
gone on without him. I just don't know. He and I are going to have a
family someday, and someday soon. Hopefully we can take care of a few
minor issues before our plans become apparent to the wrong parties,
however. I don't know the timetable, but I'm sure it's only a matter of
time before I do. I'm going to have to be a part of it, whether my friends
like it or not.
It's weird, the friends I have. I grew up having only
one real friend, plus my brothers. That was all. I really didn't
have anything else. Now, seven, ten years down the line, look at me.
Granted, I want to beat half a squadron of fighter pilots senseless and most of
my friends would rather keep secrets from me than have me know exactly
everything I know, but I don't think any of us would quite give up what we've
got for the world. I mean, once you get right down to it...we're pretty
much all each other's got. And that's not such a bad thing, I guess.
I like having friends, I just don't like it when they end up on my table.
That's understandable, I guess. No one likes to see the ones they care
about hurt, much less when they're the ones it falls to to make sure that the
people they care about live through this one, or that one, simply by medical
skill and a helluva lot of luck.
I got lucky this time. I just have to hope that our
luck won't run out anytime soon.
And as for those descendents....I guess I'm going to have some, in June.
The man I once feared is dead. Reports say it was a
massive heart attack that killed him. It's for the best that everyone
believes that. I'm just happy that I don't have to worry about him finding
out about me...about everything that's been hidden, about how the wool was
pulled over his eyes, and badly.
My hand has been asked for, and I accepted the question
willingly, with a positive response. I don't know when things will actually
happen, but I would like to lay odds on sooner rather than later -- it's always
safer that way. At least I can hope it is.
We're going to have a little girl.
I feel like I'm losing him, even though he's still
here. He's not the man I fell in love with anymore, and I begin to wonder
if I can love the man I see before me as much as I did before. He's so
much colder, so much darker -- he's not as nice to be around anymore. I
still love him, but it's so hard now, to be with him, now that his behavior has
changed so much.
I'm not the only one who notices. Some of our friends
are worried, too. It's just so hard...I don't know what to say or do
anymore, either. I know he still loves me, too, but I'm not sure he
realizes he's hurting me, hurting us -- and hurting the family we need to
be for the sake of our daughter.
It's so hard and I don't know what to do anymore.