Defeated. That's about how I feel. Defeated. Like I've just fought a long, dusty, sweaty, battle, blood running down my legs, my arms like lead, my breath heaving in my chest, hair in my eyes, and my opponent has just swatted my sword from my stinging hand, standing looking down on me as I squint up into the blistering sun from the scuffed earth. I don't even have the strength to beg for mercy, not that I really expect any. I've lost. Fully and completely lost. I realize that now. I possessed a beautiful thing, a magical thing, a wondrous thing, a lovely thing, and I threw it away. Threw it away so that it cracked and chipped, and someone else found it, and fixed it, and when I saw it again, I realized how beautiful, how magical, how wondrous, how lovely it really was, and how much it meant to me, and I can't even have it back. I am not a jester, but a fool, a foolish fool who fooled with love and pride and destiny, and ended up with nothing but a box of broken dreams, full of empty words, and meaningless promises. Next life, try to be more careful of your clubs and hearts now, would you?