This Arsday, as with all others, I have found myself reflecting upon all that has transpired since the last. When I do so, I cannot help but feel loneliness overtake me. Even those days wherein Ulrich and I did not speak were less lonely than these, for at least during those days there was some vestige of my roommate that lingered in his absence. Presently, I look across the room toward a bed which lies barren and devoid of any signs of ownership. The warmth of the coming Summer seems to envelop everyone at Artemesia, save myself.
The Mother’s Revelry is well underway, and the excitement of the acolytes here is palpable. Even Bishop De Borel, busier than ever, bears the familiar glow that seems to exude from those who have long anticipated this sacred time of year. Still, even as I know that she bears similar burdens to me and surely must not be able to enjoy the season as much as she would like, I dare not reach out too much. It does not do to become overly familiar with one’s superiors. When she inquires about my progress, I will gladly oblige and accept any company she may offer, but I shall not impose myself upon her and distract us both from more important business.
I have made attempts to write a letter to Sensei, so that I may share with her my progress thus far, but I can never find the words to say. Every sunset that passes reminds me of the home which I long to return to, and this weakness fills me with shame. Yet I have nobody to turn to. Even if I had a companion to distract me from these thoughts I could not burden them with the reality of them. Similarly, I cannot possibly burden Sensei with the knowledge of how I quietly suffer here. Even were she sympathetic to my plight, there is naught that can be done to remedy it. Yet when I wet my pen to write objectively about my project, it is this infernal racket which comes to mind instead. Every time this happens I am forced to put down my pen, and in so doing I resign myself to more loneliness.
I know that one day soon I shall finish my research, and I will be able to return to Saptagiri. Even so, Bishop De Borel promises this to be the beginning of a fruitful career. Despite how much I am honored by the honest praise and opportunities, I know in my heart that this is not what I want. What, pray tell, would be the alternative, however? The beast is as foolish as it is unreasonable, and all I can think of are the words which Ulrich asked me when last we spoke. What use is knowledge if it is not used to help others? Perhaps when I return to Saptagiri I ought to seek Sensei’s counsel. I must learn to properly tame the beast by then, lest I humiliate myself. I pray that my resolve will allow me to endure the next three years in peace, but I do not expect it to be as easy as I would like.