Dear Journal,
Can I write this and let those who read this actualy think that what I say it the truth? Can I go on living lies that I have created and keep expanding untill the world knows me as a character that i have in reality only created? Or... can I tell the world my past and pass it off as fiction? Can I tell everyone the horrible and wonderful things that I have gone through and make it so they don't even question wether it is really fake? Or will my past seem too real to even the untrained eye telling the world that my life is a document that was just merely passed as fiction?
Why am I asking these questions? There is no point in it. Not only does no one read this journal but no one will ever read a novel or memoir on an average girl. Everyone has problems. Why would anyone care about a sexualy molested child who is even now still growing up and faced with troubles that not everyone must face. The death of a friend. And the death of a sister. How the girl never met her other sister. She has family she has never talked to. Her mother is always depressed. Her home always seems so empty. Her arms ache at night just wanting to be around someone who loves and understands her. But there is no one who both loves AND understands me. Yes there is one that loves me... But I fear he doesn't unserstand me. He doesn't have to though. Even I don't understand me. My life in book format is boring and clear. My life first hand is a terrible and wonderful adventure.
I love many people. So many. But I love six far more than the rest. my father, my mother, my brother, my dead sister, my boyfriend, and my bestfriend. If all the others died... i will cry. I will morn their loss. But if even one of these six perished... I would as well.
No one is going to read this... so why am I writing it? Perhaps because I hope that someone will. Or maybe just to fill up the time I have nothing to do.
~Chelsea
 Vampiress Alexandria · Mon Sep 04, 2006 @ 04:57am · 0 Comments |
