Hello there! Glad you decided to click on this story to see what it was all about! Get ready to delve into Emma Swan's personal journal based on her point of view of her life. Prepare yourselves for cute family moments, Swan-Mills lovin', silly ridiculousness, swearing, and all the Swan Queen fluff. You may find this boring, you may actually like it. So buckle in, and enjoy the ride.

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Hey, it's Emma. So, first off, just so you know, I was forced into this. Never have I ever (nor did I ever planned on) owning or writing in a journal. I am only doing this for my lovely wife, whom has blackmailed me into this. Therapy wasn't working, so she teamed up with the Cricket to have me write in this shiny new journal. Good luck reading my chicken scratch, by the way, Regina. I only slept through ONE session! Okay, 5 sessions. But hey, the best way to work through your issues is through your dreams, right? Subconscious magic!

Not that I'm expecting anyone to read this (besides a sneaky Regina or maybe my mother), but it was "recommended" that I write as though I'm writing for multiple readers. Whatever that means. I should throw away this stupid journal but I made a promise, so here goes. *sigh* Love you, Regina.

Make a basic timeline of your life. List the years of your life in increments of five.

Ugh, I hate this already. But I better get writing because I'm fairly certain Regina is looking over my shoulder right now, and I love you sweetie you're the best wife ever… Could you please make me some hot chocolate?

1-5 years old:

Alright, I started out life in a tree, but I can't count that cause I was younger than 1. So… one year old me. I was adorable (obviously) and helpless, and all by my lonesome in the big, scary world until a rich couple came to scoop me up like Daddy Warbucks did with Annie. 2-year-old me was just as—if not more—adorable than before. With blonde ringlets and bright, forest green eyes, I was fawned over and spoiled. Regina says I looked like a Cabbage Patch Kid—she just learned what they are, by the way. Thanks for telling me I had chubby cheeks and a big head, Love.

There's not much to say about 3-year-old Emma Swan, except that when her loving Mommy & Daddy threw her back into the system like an outgrown puppy, she quickly learned not to trust anyone, and the sparkle in her eyes faded just the slightest.

6-10 years old:

I was bullied a lot. Mostly for being poor and having ratty clothes and no parents, but I was also very small for my age. I quickly learned to toughen up the first time I got beat up by a group of kids who were older than me. I taught them a lesson thanks to a hard, right hook and The Karate Kid, and after that, I was basically invisible. I skipped school a lot to lose myself in books at the library and pretend I had the fairytale life. Ironic, huh? Eventually, I got sent to a new, crappy group home so I ran away.

Can I just add a side note in here—Regina makes the best hot cocoa. She keeps it PG for the kiddos, but she adds a little rum in mine and it really puts me in a great mood. Despite not "doing rum", I've managed to convince her to try it and lo and behold, guess who's a rum fan now? Fun times for Emma and the wifey, eh? ;)

Now where was I? Oh right, finishing this prompt.

11-15 years old:

Stuck in that awkward phase of toys or boys, I was really alone in the world. I lived on the streets a lot while hiding from the system and all the abusive foster families that came with it. Probably not the best idea for a young girl to do on the streets of Boston, but I did what I had to. I survived and came out stronger. Luckily, my invisibility cloak seemed to still be intact, so people left me alone. Also, some mysterious kid (whom I now know as August) would show up right when I was feeling really down to offer me words of advice and supplies. He was my only ally at the time.

16-20 years old:

These years were equally crazy, heartbreaking, and exciting. I had to grow up fast and learned the hard way that the world does not bend to your will. My short bridge of trust was broken not once, but twice, and it took me a long time after to ever let anyone get close to me again. But let's talk about the highlights of these years, shall we?

I met my first friend, Lily. She was my very best friend, and I learned the art of "borrowing" thanks to her. She manipulated me in a lot of ways and wished for things she didn't understand, despite having a loving family who took care of her, but she helped me through some tough times.

After things with her fell through, I met my first love, Neal. Now, he is a touchy subject. I fell head over heels in love with him, carried his baby, only to have him spit back in my face. I found myself arrested for doing his dirty work, and was promptly sent to prison where I luckily was not gang-raped or beat up because of the little bean inside of me. Neal hurt me in ways I can never forgive, but I also can't hate him completely because he is Henry's father and he gave me my little miracle.

When I was 18, I couldn't even celebrate getting out of the foster system for good because I had to give away the one thing, the one thing that I loved most. My baby boy. 18 hours of labor were not kind, especially not to a small, malnourished teen like me. But once I heard his little cry, my heart broke. I wanted nothing more than to hold him and call him mine, look upon his perfect face and tell him how much I loved him. But I had to give him my best chance. And he did get it—I know that now. Regina is the best mother I could have ever asked for him. And together, we make the perfect team.

Excuse me for a moment while I comfort my crying wife. It's only gonna get worse from here, Regina. I keep telling you not to look over my shoulder. Apparently, I have a knack for this writing thing, because Regina never cries unless it's over our children or me. Pat on the back, Swan. You asshole. You made your wife cry!

21-25 years old:

These years were my prime before Storybrooke. I ended up scoring a job as a bounty hunter, something I turned out to be good at, which kept me off the streets. I had finally made something of myself—and looked good doing it. ;)

26-30 years old:

I'm still living the life as a badass bounty hunter, taking names and earning dough, when my long lost 10-year-old kid shows up on my doorstep. I don't have two words in before the kid is begging me to come home with him, and I am in full panic mode. It's not like I never thought about him or missed him, it's that I had no idea how to be a mother and take care of a half-grown kid. And since it was a closed adoption I sure as hell didn't expect this. But I don't regret going back to Storybrooke with him for one instant.

I ended up staying and reuniting with my actual family. I got to connect with this awesome kid and be a part of his life that I missed out on. Although things were a bit prickly with Regina—partially because I was stepping on her turf and partially because she liked me—I eventually became Sheriff, which was like my dream job since I was like, 7. Anyway, we came to a truce, then ended up becoming friends, and then we fell madly in love.

31-35 years old:

I'm currently 32 years old (not old yet, Regina) and I gotta say, life is pretty good. Work is slow, but when you're trying to rein in a 14-year-old and a 1-year-old, things get pretty crazy. Regina and I got married on my 31st birthday which is pretty freaking amazing if you think about it (2 celebrations in one)! and we adopted our little Makayla Belle soon after. Henry is going on dates and enjoying playing sports, and Makayla is wearing us out with all the running around she's doing. Yeah, life is never boring, that's for sure.

What happened in the year you were born? Research the details, and write them down.

Well, I don't mean to toot my own horn or nothing, but my mere presence broke the Enchanted Forest. My adorableness effectively wiped away all of the inhabitants and sent them away to a Land without Magic (myself included). Regina says technically she was the reason for it with the curse and what not, but toot toot motherfucker, your royal princess has just arrived to screw your lives over.

Also, in 1983 (the year I Back to the Futured into), a musician calling himself Hot Chocolate came to be, which I think is super ironic. Admit it, you think so too. Don't believe me? Google it. Wikipedia is the source of all knowledge and thus, bestowed its power onto me.

Okay… Regina read this passage over like some sort of English grammar Nazi and is forcing me to do actual in-depth research for the year 1983. Guess she didn't find Hot Chocolate to be as funny as I thought.

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So, it's 1:30 in the morning and I work at 7 a.m., but I am forcing myself to stay up to finish this second prompt though our goose mattress bed is calling my name. I bet Regina is cozied up under the covers sleeping and dreaming of the torture I'm being forced into right now. Lucky duck. I'll be the one having to talk to Henry when he sneaks in, too. More mom points for me. Yay.

I actually did find something interesting that I'm sure you nerds will appreciate. Apparently, Nintendo released a video game console in the year 1983 called the Atari. It's basically the failed cousin of the game us 90 babies grew up with. But I guess the kiddos of that generation didn't appreciate the wonders of technology, because the console died the same year—and was respectfully buried in New Mexico.

I feel guilty playing my Nintendo now… but on the bright side, I am so kickass at Paperboy that Henry has yet to beat my high score. Regina refuses to play it no matter how much we beg her because she claims it isn't "intellectual" or "stimulating". I beg to differ. But I did catch her playing it one night when she thought we were all asleep-her lip tucked under her front teeth for concentration and her fingers furiously tapping the buttons. It was quite possibly the cutest thing I ever saw her do (though I do say that a lot). She has no idea that I caught her and I've decided I'll let her keep her little secret. I'm still tacking that onto my list of reasons why I love her. I've already filled 2 notebooks with reasons.

Anywho, I'm headed to bed now. Gotta get some Zzz's in before work. If I'm cranky in the morning, you'll know why. Yes, I'm metaphorically staring at you, Regina. Brat.

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If you enjoyed this first part of Emma's journal entries, let me know! There will be more fluff and ridiculousness to come! This journal is far from filled. ;)