Dear Diary,
 
Today I saw

 
Dear Diary,

Today I was looking out the window and

 
Dear Diary,
 
Today was a day like any other.
 
 
 
She has no identity put a pair of eyes at a window - known to no one but Mother and Father and a silhouette she sees and names her friend.

 
For all their sweet temperedness, young girls are capable of growing restless and agitated when the boredom refuses to break. Which is why she lays here, curled up by the window and peering through the curtains though she knows she shouldn’t. She clutches a soft leather tome to her chest; her words are held close to her heart and she searches for those that have not yet tumbled from her pen.
 

For there’s only so many times you can write about the longing for the grass and the birds outside, about the smell of wood shavings, and the newest addition to a collection of airplanes. There’s only so many times you can tell the truth.

 
There are yearnings and dreams and wishes and hopes, and all of them are just lies when you think about it. Lies are all she has left to live on.
 
 
 
Dear Diary,
 
       Today I went outside
 
      Today I made a friend
 
      Today I laid on my back in the grass and laughed

Today I saw the world

 
Dear Diary,
 
Today I brought my family back together again.