How could this happen to me? Why? Have I displeased my father? Shamed him? I don't understand. It's all a blur. I remember drinking wine at my father's dinner party. It seemed such a solemn gathering at first, but then after just a drink or two, I felt so light-hearted and merry. Now that I think back on it, I remember seeing a group of Khajit merchants acting like that once. I think my wine had skooma in it. I'm still too muddled to think. If someone reads this, my name is Jeriah Valtieri, of Valtieri Hall in High Rock. Tomorrow, I am going to try to find my way home. It's so cold.