The first day of My 323rd year

Yesterday was my 323^rd birthday, after so many birthdays the day begins to lose its meaning. Despite the fading novelty of this day I indulge myself in a tradition that I’ve been practicing for several decades now. I “borrow” some bread and yeast from the owners of the house that I’ve set up my home in and make myself a special beer that I then drink alone. I hate stealing from the family, but I try to make up for it by cleaning the house and washing the dishes no matter how difficult it is due to my small stature. I usually don’t partake in the drinking of spirits, but on such a day I make an exception. I let the warm liquid fill me as I read my journal entries from the past year. This tradition used to bring me joy as I would look back on the adventures and hi jinks that I engaged in as I sit in my makeshift comfy chair and then ceremonially burn the my journals from the year fueling my little fireplace as it represents the start of a new year. However, my ceremonial fire almost alerted the kind family whose house I preside in of my existence, so I’m deciding to use the teenaged daughter’s computer to type out my journal entries this year. I’m also deciding to post my journal entries into a blog despite my adeptness with the internet because yesterday an emotion emerged that is entirely new to me, loneliness. Due to my strange nature of being an 8-inch-tall elf like creature, connecting to humans and forming relationships has been nearly impossible for me. In my early years I tried to live amongst the humans offering my services as cobbler, but the humans never accepted me. I was met with hate and disgust and was captured by an alchemist to try and capture my magic. Despite the rejection I’ve been met with by humans, I’ve always found a fondness towards them. I’ve always found the love and comradery they have towards each other extremely endearing. That is why I have always decided to live amongst them in their houses instead in isolation in a remote cottage in the woods. I typically choose to live with a large family to make up for never having one, and I especially like children and young adults as to see them grow up and carve an identity for themselves extremely heartening. I am currently presiding in the house of the Sullivan family in Vermont who consist of 5 people. Despite not being able to interact with them or them not knowing of my presence. I’d like to consider myself as the grandfather of the family. I carved out a cozy little nook behind the fridge in which I live. On the nightstand made from match boxes next to my bed I keep pictures of each of the family members and a black and white photo of Henry, the only human that has been aware of my existence for over 200 years and the only person I could consider my friend. I find myself lucky to have found Henry, I spotted his house from my hot air balloon while scouting for houses to take refuge in and live there for four years before he discovered me living in his spice cabinet. I’ll never forget his shock of finding a small old man living amongst his paprika. Instead of squishing me with his fist or calling an exterminator like any other sane person, we spent the whole night talking. It was such a pleasant surprise how accepting he was o f me and how my fear of interaction with people just melted away when I was around him. He kept me a secret from his wife and children and we spent countless nights drinking tea and discussing books, philosophy, and the stories of my travels around the world. The years that I lived with him were the happiest of my life, and it was a sad day when he passed away. It’s always hard when a member of the family I live with dies. After watching so many people grow old and pass away, you would imagine it gets easier, but it doesn’t. Despite the danger of venturing out into the world during the day I made it my mission to go to his funeral. I will never forget Henry and the joy he brought to my life. I am begging to have a special affinity with the daughter of the family, I spend a lot of my nights in her room stealthily watching Netflix with her and hear her talk about boys with her friends. I would like to make a Henry out of her, but my fear of her rejection is crippling. I love her like she was my own and would not want to ruin it. It is getting quite late now, and I must tend to my mushroom farm before I go to bed, so this will be it for my first blog post.