Mr. Petticord. Stella’s mom. Huddie. Now Joanne. They all want me to kill people. That’s apparently what old magic people do. Ask me to commit murder. Except Royale. And Obaluaiye. They didn’t ask me to murder, they were murdered. You know magic so now it’s time to kill or be killed? That can’t be how it works.
Except that it seems that it does. I never thought about it before now but magicians are in the same boat that criminals are in. What we’re doing is a big secret. No one can know. Violence is always on the table because we can’t tell anyone. Just like a guy selling dimebags, I can’t call the cops when another magic person is fucking with me.
If this was a movie I’d think of a way to trick Joanne into giving me the spell I need. Or I’d find a way to pit her and Stella’s mom against each other and they’d both be destroyed and I would get the spell that way without getting my hands dirty. And that would be fine because I didn’t murder them directly. Movie morality is expansive because real morality is boring.
This isn’t a movie. And I’m not that smart.
Joanne started to tell me about the guy she wanted me to kill, some mage that that beef with her family. Which checks out, since he massacred them he probably had an issue with them. I told her I didn’t want to hear about it. I told her that I wasn’t a murderer.
She cursed me out good as I was leaving.
I’m tired of all this. I’m tired of getting tangled up in other people’s bullshit. I can’t do anything about the bugs. I feel like I can’t do anything about anything. I want to talk to Royale. I miss him.
Maybe I should forget about magic. Stick to working on getting CTE for a couple crisp ten-dollar bills.
I know that I melodramatically swore that this time I wouldn’t give up. But what can I do? Feel free to attack me about it, I already hate myself anyway.