Author's Note: This story is ancient (and terrible - honestly). Consider it archived.
Warning: Characters are pretty hardcore OOC.
Dear Diary,
I am going to die, whether I succeed or fail, and I know it. I choose it. I didn't choose the way things were going to happen, of course - never would I choose what is to come - but dying is my desired outcome. I am going to die... and that's that. My friends can't know yet... Tifa... Cid... Yuffie... Cait-Sith...Barret... Nanakai... they wouldn't understand anyway, no matter when they found out. They'd assume I was killed though, naturally, if I don't tell them the truth. Maybe it would be a coincidence that I succeeded and failed at the same time... but it could happen... and I could use his sword, too. Nobody would know. Nobody. But they deserve to know... I want to tell one, just one, so that... after I go... after fate has played it's wild card... they'll know the truth. I ... I could trust ...Vincent. Although he's... male... and... could very well take it the wrong way... no... perhaps Tifa would be more understanding... but... no... I trust Vincent with... everything. I want to talk to him... I'll tell him everything... of course. I'll tell him everything, and he can tell... Tifa... the others... after it's too late.
Vincent. I trust you with my diary. Don't let them read it, but let them know who I truly am when I'm gone. Tell them the truth... about myself, and about Sephiroth.
My last goodbyes,
Cloud Strife