Life has been depressing these last few months.

I found work creating potions in a Dalaran laboratory. Most of the time, the requests are simple. ‘I need something for my health’, or ‘I’ll take an order of Troll’s bloods, please’. It’s often formulaic grunt work that gets me into a conscious coma: ‘Work, work’ as the Orgrimmar peons often shout to each other. I lose track of time until the proprietress tells me to head off ‘home’ for the day.

‘Home’. Where is that? I’ve never felt so displaced in my entire life.

I grow tired of Dalaran. I see the ugliness in this city that others neglect to mention when they speak of it; The high prices, the destitute and poor dwelling in the sewers, the hostility of the visitors from one faction toward the other. I was led to believe I would enjoy, nay, lovethis city, but the beauty here is a false one.

I find myself experiencing ‘homesickness’, but I can’t seem to articulate where I am to find ‘home’. I cannot return to the Undercity; I am not wanted there. I was pressured to leave, and so I did. If I had resisted, perhaps life would be different now. Perhaps I would be happy now. But I cannot know this. When I think of it, I am driven to heartache, and so I bury my memories as quickly as they surface for breath.

And what of the isles, or the place of my people, my father? This has not ever been ‘home’, but inexplicably, my urge to reconnect with my roots has grown strong. I fled from this life so early, so hastily. I was chided by others, even those I was close to and whom I had much love for. My old love, he wished me to be more traditional. More like him. Had I stayed, maybe we’d be mated now. For life. If I had been different.

But I resisted. Only now do I see that, perhaps, he was right. Maybe I shouldn’t have run. I’ve always run. Always dissolved my troubles by escaping them, only to wind up some place worse. Now I am attempting to outrun troubles that flanks me quickly. I am running out of breath and they are upon me; questions, truths and behaviors that are my own responsibility.

I’ll bathe tonight. I’ll dream of the Vale again, more than likely. And I’ll awaken at dawn and begin another day inside a coma.