Dear Diary...

Ugh, this is so awkward. I'm addressing a freaking book like some prepubescent girl. Believe me notebook, diary—whatever—writing this out wasn't my idea. It was Shao's actually. Thought it'd be healing to get all my angst out on paper.

Yeah, like some confessional's gonna heal the permanent wound I've been dealt by a monster.

Yeah, that's right—a monster. Actually, more correct to say Amon, but Amon just happens to start a monster, so hell—same damn thing.

Anyways, Shao insisted I get this out before my head explodes because of all the anxiety. Who says it won't even if I write this damn thing out? But he insists, and I'm in no mood to argue with him. Mind's completely occupied with other shit to have to also add his nagging tone, egging me into doing this stupid thing.

Let's get to the start of this little tale. Actually—it's not really the beginning; that'd require going back to the glorious day I entered this world, but this sordid tale doesn't start there. It begins with one of the highest points of my life...and one of the lowest.

It's shit I had to hit high and low in one evening, but moving on...

We'd just won the Championship for the fourth year running. We clobbered those Fire Ferrets easily (okay, okay, we kind of had some help...the cheating kind), and were getting prepared to enjoy the spoils. I was feeling good, an exhilarating high—I was king, dammit—and then the wind got knocked out of those sails a little too quickly. I can still recall the awful feeling of him roughing me into a forced kneeling position, his thumb pressed harshly against my forehead as my world crumbled out from under me.

Not too many moments later, that literally happened as we—the three of us, Ming and Shao suffered the same shame—were haphazardly tossed from the ledge of the middle platform into the foreboding drink below. Foreboding, you might ask? The height wasn't frightening—c'mon, I'm not a wuss with heights—it was what we were landing into.

You see, the reason Shao's pressuring me to jot this shit down is cause of what Amon did to us, and the water below...let's just say I wasn't readily willing to test out the theory of what that madman was claiming just yet. Water...I can control it's flow—bend it to my will, so to speak—at least until that moment Amon showed up. I was barely accepting the fact that the whole thing was real, and I was just about to face the worst kind of reality check.

Turned out the madman was true to his claim—and I had to learn that the hard way. When I made impact with that cold, wet liquid, I fought to get it to flow to my will, but I ended up floundering. I sunk deeper before I finally found a way to the surface.

The was so unnatural for me. The weight of the water against my struggling limbs felt heavy, as if ten-pound weights had been bolted at each of my wrists and ankles. It felt like learning to swim all over again, and let me tell you this—I'm an excellent swimmer. That's how much I felt weighed down by this new burden.

Ming and Shao looked like shit when we found a platform to cling to; but what they were going through was nothing like what I was; they didn't have to be reminded of their losses by being taunted by it as we bobbed there barely acknowledging what was going on above. Water has been my life, and now that livelihood has been stripped from me—

The three of us huddled in my place after the fuss was over with. A couple of Beifong's officers fished us out of the cold depths and then sent us on our way. Not before we were given a quick once over—routine kinda thing for those put through a traumatic experience and all that bullshit. Shao passed out easily on my chaise while—okay, I feel completely moronic admitting this, but Shao will get on my case if I don't—I cried myself into an exhausted stupor in Ming's arms. Fell asleep I guess somewhere between those ugly sobs. Damn you Shao, you better not tell anybody else about that—

They called us into the station the next day to give our accounts of events the night before. I don't know why—Beifong and her officers saw the same things we saw. But not before I spent half the morning looking for a solution to my new problem. This curse a monster left me with. Went to the best, the brightest, and even the newest and most enthusiastic healers—biggest waste of my time and money. Produced nada, diddlysquat. I'm still stuck with this curse, and it's looking more and more like it's permanent, and it took a chunk of the change I'll be needing to survive on now that probending's no longer an option for me.

And I said as much to Uhvatar Korra when we ran into each other at the station before Beifong called for my testimony. Told her to get that monster for me as well. Hope she can do it. If the girl's not careful—she could be next, and I'd like to see her settle the score before that madman gets her too.

Although...then at least she'd understand my predicament better so she wouldn't have to aim those pathetically sympathetic turquoise eyes my direction and make me continue to feel worse about my situation—

Even though I eventually sobbed myself to sleep the night following the disaster, I still looked haggard when I showed up at the station the next day. My hair—I usually put so much attention into its upkeep—was a disheveled mess that hung lifelessly in front of my face like long strands of fine, wet noodles. Okay—my hair wasn't wet, I made sure to remedy that after managing one traumatically short shower before I headed in—but because I wasn't able to use my bending to style it like I usually would, it felt extra weighty. I'm still getting used to the situation; product just isn't the same. Also had these ugly bags under my usually intense and mocking eyes—lack of good sleep will do that, you know.

After I managed to escape that hellish little police station, I trudged toward some of my usual haunts. But the experience wasn't the same; news of our situation and the circumstances leading up to it had spread like wildfire, and I had the disconcerting sensation of eyes on me wherever I went. Got some sympathy from a few of those sets of eyes—the old fans—but some of them were anything but friendly. Seems like a few folks felt slighted by our actions in the arena—I was just starting to regret the fact that we cheated our way to the top—

Ming found me half wasted at one of our usual haunts. Had to forcibly take the yuans I was offering the barkeep for another drink to swill down from me while attempting to drag my incomprehensible self away from the scene. I was only partially aware of my actions, but Ming said I was wailing and ranting at him as he dragged me outta there.

I can only gladly acknowledge that I waited until he practically carried me through the door of my place before a started sobbing heavily in his arms. Even in my drunken stupor I remembered that much, and I'm thankful I can get that way with Ming without getting harshly judged for it. We go way back, practically almost to diapers. Our dads knew each other somehow; kinda how we got introduced actually.

But anyways—I'm thankful Ming's been there as my foundation through these trying times. Doesn't dampen—ugh, I gotta remember to lay off the water references—my anxiety over this whole situation, but it does make it a little easier to handle.

A tear soaked the inked paper just then. Just below the margins of that journal entry and above the next. Tahno hastily scrubbed the evidence away from the page to put it out of sight, out of mind. He did the same with the same liquid that was starting to accumulate at his tear ducts. Out of sight—out of mind. Once his eyes were cleared and he blocked out the noises of busy primetime traffic in the background, he kept reading the next entry.

People are starting to notice something about me that I'd rather keep under wraps. It's been a few days since the Amon ordeal, and since then they've been so damned busy scrutinizing the three of us under a microscope because of our actions—bribing the refs, all that jazz—which could reveal things that I'd rather they didn't. I thrive on the limelight, but even I know there are certain things that not everyone else needs to know about. I love publicity and being the center of attention, but only for the right kind of reasons—the good ones.

Over the last few days I really began to notice the change in attitudes of people towards us—especially me in particular. The fangirls kept giving me these pitiful looks and acted like I was fragile and all that. Maybe I was—a little—but they didn't have to treat me like I was broken. I was—am—but I want them to keep seeing the glory of who I was before—clinging to that as they shower me with attention...damn—another water reference; I'm really gonna have to get these out of my system if I'm gonna cope—

Thing is—I want to cling to how it was before this mess happened—desperately so. I wanna keep up the image of who I was—the facade they were all so familiar with and fell in love with.

I don't want them to see the real me underneath. I don't want to be the subject of those tabloid periodicals I've come across from time to time. Especially now—when I already have to struggle to find a way to make ends that I don't have probending to rely on anymore.

Sometimes I wonder if its even worth it to keep on trying...sometimes think it might've been better to let myself be claimed by those waters under the arena rather than resurface and continue on like this...

Shao will get on my case for just dwelling on the rants. He wanted me to record the events of my days, so I guess I'll get into that.

On the subject of fangirls, other people and their opinions after the fact—things haven't been so glorious these past few days. Had a few former rivals call me out on my actions in confrontations I had with them while I was on my merry way about town. Not just verbally—some expressed it physically, and I've still got the bruises to show for it.

I hate this new way people are looking at me. The adoring fans with their pity, and the ex-rivals with their anger, disgust. Wish it could go back to the way it was before; I'm starting to regret how frivolous I was with the fans and myself before all this happened. I was such a damn fool—

I'm either gonna have to learn how to fight hand to hand so I can keep something like that from happening again, or jump over the ledge of one of these city bridges and bring it all to an end in the water below. I'll keep fighting to survive, but I'll keep option B open—just in case.