Day Five-Fifty-One: Identity crisis

"We're not leaving yet."

Libby's mouth dropped open. "The hell? 'We're not leaving yet'? The hell you mean, we're not leaving?"

That's exactly what I meant. We're not leaving Villeinville. Not just yet. It was a tough sell, and no one wanted to back me on it, but, we're still here, parked outside Villeinville.

What was my reason? I'm… I'm not sure.

Ever since the meeting with Cybil last week, I've been confused. Confused about the town, about my childhood, about Robert, my parents, my upbringing, everything. All these memories I have, stupid and hollow though they are, have been thrown into a little windstorm in my brain. It's like a can't concentrate on anything, can't focus, and it's driving me crazy.

Shoes. Boots. Shoes. Boots. They're both footwear. They were both ruined. What's the big deal? 

Shoes.

Boots.

Shoes.

Boots.

Fuck.

I spent half of the day, despite my reluctance to leave the town, staring at the walls of Villeinville from Command. The other half, when I finally managed to work up the courage to enter the town, I spent wandering aimlessly through the streets and fields. I watched people work, talk, laugh and frown, wondering as I wandered why everything suddenly seemed so damned foreign.

I'm writing this diary entry atop a rock. I remember this rock. It's near a pond where we used to fetch water for mom. Robert and I used to play around it all the time when we were kids. He would hide behind the rock, and I would run around it, trying to catch him. If I caught him - which I never did, he was a fast little bastard - he'd have to find and chase me instead. We called our game 'Hide-and-go-Tag'. 

It was a stupid game. But we liked it well enough.

Didn't we? 

I'm pretty sure we did.

But when I think of Robert's face, now… when it pops into my head… it looks a little too adult. As though it's ready to sprout a little goatee at any time.

Little boys don't have goatees.

Well. Grayson might have one now, for all I know. He has the same fast-growing bug that claimed Eve and stole away her infancy. But normal little kids don't have goatees, and I'd say that Robert was a normal kid.

I don't know why he looks so adult in my mind. I spent all my time with Robert as a kid. Why can't I remember what his face looked like? I… I think he had pudgey cheeks… he was a bit fat… but if he was fat, how could he outrun me…?

Boots. Shoes. Shoes. Boots.

Fuck.

I… I need to stick around a bit longer. Even if it means inconveniencing an entire transport full of people There's something important in all this.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Wanderer