I can't seem to keep myself from yearning. Yearning for something that at this point I'm convinced I'll never have. I hate that I dwell on it so much. I hate how much it eats at me. I just want to be able to love someone without it blowing up in my face. I need to learn how to give up.

My familiar craves violence some days, and I completely understand.

Santa Claus is a Lich, and his phylactery is childhood whimsy.

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My familiar enjoys basking in the light of dawn whilst I scribble away in my tome. A welcome companion at all times.

She arcane on my focus 'til I cast.

You give a civilization everything it needs to flourish for the betterment of all and they decide to play God. Can't even leave children alone for a few hundred years...

I was in the market today when I was approached by a young man wearing a bright red hat. It was a very bizarre experience he acted as though he knows me from somewhere but I don't think I've seen him before in the entire five millennia of my existence. I will need to look into this.