No matter what I do, I can’t get my brain and my heart to be on the same level right now. More and more often I find myself in some sort of dead-lock. And more easily distracted. Plus, acting all the time is very, very hard…

The prince was there. Seeing here is strangely comforting, even though I know it’s a temporary pleasure every time. And there’s always something at hand, providing ample reason why she can’t talk to me right then and there. Then again, what I have to say will be as important in a week as it is now. So I guess I can be patient just a little longer. After I’ve talked to her I have to think about whether I’ll talk to the old sewer rat as well. And the Brunis, of course. If nothing else I like the prince’s sense of humor.

Lützow was there as well. Once more he’s welcome to enter Marburg. Which is a shame. However, I did have my little game of fun with him. When he approached the prince to bid her hello she basically pushed him backwards. Such a shame that this meant she was pushing him right in my direction with no further option for him to withdraw. Really, I had no idea the chairs were arrange in such a way that he couldn’t have gone elsewhere. Poor kid. I still dislike his arrogance. Now he and Jacques are throwing a party in order to display some fake unity nobody’s really buying. Whatever. You guys have your show. And people are calling my clan bit fat liars. Just look at yourselves… I wish I wouldn’t have to go. But the prince ordered me to. Damn that.

I still can’t figure out Mascha’s system of when to wear the Face and when not to. However, she seems to be caught between a rock and a hard place. She pointed out not to trust her several times last night. And not to trust Jason. Odd, that. We’re all kindred. It’s pretty non-smart to trust any of us. But for her to point it out… Something must have happened. Besides, she basically said that she has to pass everything she knows on to the old guy. Even when she doesn’t want to. And then? Thomas betrays her. Must have hurt. Or rather, disappointed.

Speaking of her brother… He said he’s withholding information in order to protect her. Me as well. Which is bull. He’s Nosferatu. Information is what keeps those guys alive. He said it’s about how to kill someone. And that I don’t know that person. The latter part I don’t believe. Now the question is who wants whom dead – and why. And most importantly: Why is Thomas in on it? Why would he risk his position as senator for some stranger?

Then there’s that stone Pearse and Jason dug up. When the prince touched it, both Jason and I noticed some sort of shiver. But we couldn’t reproduce it. So now we’ll have people look into it.

And sticking to that subject… Von Stein is annoying as ever. Just why is nobody putting a stake through his heart just yet? Casually asking me about the military. Yaddayadda.

Our Malkavian lady was not quite herself last night. Didn’t get either of my allusions. Doesn’t sound much like her. I hope she doesn’t mess up the way Raphael did, right before things could have been interesting for him.

I warned Jason. But I’m not sure whether he’ll even listen to me. Nor am I sure that he should trust me right now. My judgement these nights sucks, big time. And I can’t focus, which makes me very bad at what I do.

Dee is starting to be more and more restless. I’m not sure just how long I can keep her from asking the wrong questions. And I know that, being frustrated the way I am, I’ll either lash out at her some time soon – or I’ll simply say the wrong things. Worst thing is that I can feel I have no real control over any of it.

Ah, Jacques… You told me that this form of betrayal feels a bit like dieing. Little did you know just how right you are in that. I have seen you break every single promise you ever gave these nights. And again you aren’t listening to the little advice I can give you. I’m sorry, love… Sorry for being incapable of finding better words that could convince you. Sorry for being unable to keep you in your position. Sorry for being unable to think straight. And sorry for so many other things. And all the while everything feels so damn real… Except for that you told me once that the blood forces this impression on you. So… If it’s not real, even if it feels that way, then – I’m scared to think of what will become of us, should the blood ever fade. I’m scared of the things I could do. And if you were right in what you said I know taht I will.

Most of all I’m scared I will never be myself again…