April 26th, 1800
Dear journal, today I find myself in the beautiful and diverse city of St. Augustine. There are so many different types of people here from Irish and American, to British and the bloody French. Although its a small knit community, I still have yet to meet everyone. Like the work I did in Pensacola, I found a job at the dockyard working with a local merchant loading and unloading new stock for shipment throughout the surrounding villages.
I met the strangest person the other night at the tavern, he had a very island like accent and came from Haiti. He went by the name Georges Biassou, and said he was the chieftain of a rebel group that was soon going to take over Haiti and kill every last white man that treated his people like dogs. As he told me his story and aspirations I continued to drink and eventually left due to his uncannily attitude towards my race.
Life has been swell. Now that I’m 23 the idea of owning land for myself and raising a family is beginning to run around my head. I haven’t the money to sustain myself let alone another person, so I’m not sure why its bothering me so much. Almost everywhere I go, from the the dockyard to the tavern I catch myself starting to wonder what my purpose is in life. I miss my family dearly and haven’t wrote to my mother in some time now. I pray every day and night for the promise of reuniting with my two sisters Jude and Annabelle again. They should be in their early twenties now probably married with a child or two.
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