Seela Fen's 3rd Datapad Entry

	Rol'Ree Manufacturing Type-36C Datapad
	Personal journal for Seela Fen. Sometimes you can find something larger. It's noticed, but something easily brushed off and explained away. It doesn't matter if you're the one who explains away the significance of the act or if it's your master that brushes it off. If the act is a permanent change in your environment, a mark on the floor, the wall. Or if it's as transitory as the tracks in the sand. You put them there, but with enough time, they will disappear forever. These are the things a slave does to survive. No. Survive isn't the right word. I was surprised how easy enough to survive as a slave. Simply do as you are told, when you are told. As efficiently as possible. Nothing more. Nothing less. Do this, and you will survive. Easy. And hard. You'll survive for a time. Slowly. Insidiously. Thoughts will creep into your mind. They start of small and simple. Eventually, the thought start focusing on the fact that your life is not your own. That your life will never be your own. These thoughts will start to chew away on your spirit. One tiny little piece at a time. Oh, at first it doesn't seem like much has changed at all in your life. You continue to go about your daily duties, finding a way to survive from day to day. Little else rises into your consciousness. Then one day you look around. You notice wrinkles in the face in the mirror. Wrinkles that weren't there last time you looked. Then you start to wonder, "When was the last time I looked in the mirror?" The last time you stopped and enjoyed the sun on your face. The warmth on your skin.
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