Diary,
I know not what I shall do, for my life has become unto the greatest sin. The gods, led me along with that accursed prophecy, mocking my blindness to my fate. And it is now that an an actual blindness has been chosen, in my one act of self determination, as my mortal punishment. Imprisoned within the recesses of my mind I have no sense but all is calm, clear to me. The divine have chosen my soul as a savior and scapegoat, destined my mortal soul to an unknowing horror, whose grand intentions and precautionary measures wither to ruin. And my poor children! Antigone and Eteocles! Ismene and Polynices! Woe to you that has been a product of such a monstrous union of man and mother. I hold no doubt in my breast that no good will come of your lives, the only escape in following blood's course: suicide of the mother or self ordained imprisonment of the father.
Now I become a hermit and nomad, exiled from the ancient land and populace I won through my own merit and skill. There is no path for my eyes or mind to follow in my exile, the gods' prophecy holds no more weight on my actions but the implications of my atrocity will haunt me until the end of my days. The sin bears heavily about me, both physically and within my spirit, it is slowly draining my life but death is my greatest fear and punishment; for to die is to face my parents, my father whom I killed in coldest blood and my mother who I defiled in ignorance. Better to live; deaf, dumb and blind; than to face the judgement of the gods and see those that my prophetic actions have ruined. I must wander, healing and atoning for my misdeeds. I can only hope that my fears concerning my children never come to pass, but this in itself is too great a gift for the divine to bestow on a miserable figure such as myself. I weep for their eventual failures, caused by my tainted blood.
Oedipus
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