Dear Diary,

Would you believe me if I said that school has stripped me of my desire to write? I used to love to write, and even writing this I think a small part of my heart still does. I don't even think the issue lies in writing itself; it's what I've begun to associate it with. I understand the importance of schoolwork, and I do enjoy learning, but the countless essays and papers I've written has left me with a swollen hand and no imagination. I would not even be writing if it was not of absolute importance to let my emotions runs free.

Father is injured. That I know. I also know that it happened during a Ministry event, and I know my father was trying to stop whatever situation occurred. I know he is in the hospital, and I know it's not an injury that can be easily cured. (Mother would have me think otherwise, but if it was easily fixed he would not still be there.)

What I do not know is whether or not he'll be alright. I cannot have my father die. I know too many fatherless children (Abraxas, Saxon, Joella) and I do not wish to join the ranks of them. I hardly doubt Merry wishes to become orphaned either, and I'm simply not sure he's prepared to be the man of the household. I also love my father, and I would miss him terribly.

I'm not sure what to do, and frankly I'm not sure there's anything I can do. I must wait out this horrific period and hope for the best.

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