Dear Journal,
I slaughtered all of my wife's horrible suitors. I feel no remorse for my actions for they have barged into my estate, drake my wine, ate my food, and tried to marry off my wife as if I were dead. How dare they! Slaying those idiotic suitors was the easy part, proving to Penelope that I was the real Odysseus was the hard one. How could I blame her, though? After twenty years of being apart and having dozens of men disguised as me try to marry her, I would have too built a wall of protection around my heart. Nevertheless, we were married before and know each other very well. She knew that I would find rage in knowing that my original bed had been moved from my room, that was our secret sign. Her way of knowing that I was really Odysseus, not just an impostor trying to gain power of Ithaca through marriage. So after twenty years of being separated by vast oceans and land we were reunited at last.
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