It has been almost two years since I picked up and quill and wrote into a diary.
Obviously last time this happened it did not go so well.
But also obviously, last time this happened it was an unusual diary.
It is from that year I swore to never reveal my true feelings anymore. I would wish to conceal anything that I feel.
But sometimes when I bottle it up for too long, I wish for something to let it out. I wish to let someone—or something at least, to know of my feelings and secrets.
What could be better than a diary?
So I picked up a shiny black raven feather and begin to write.
This is my life… My name is Ginny.