Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

This is my first fanfic. Please let me know what you think!
xoxo
Clara

A great person once said, "With every breath, every heartbeat, every blink, a story is lost." Now, I don't know about that. What I do know is that every person, no matter how insignificant, has a story to tell. Whether it's exaggerated or fabricated or belongs to someone else, it's there. Our souls are made stories. They're fighting to get out. When we cry, our stories seep from our eyelids trying to find an understanding ear. One tear can break a thousand hearts, you know. Just like a smile can thaw them.

This is my story. I'm not a particularly interesting person. My one discrepancy from the rest of the world is this: my emotions. I'm not smart- at least, any smarter than the average person. Nor am I exceptionally beautiful or powerful or strong. But I have felt harder and realer and purer than nearly anyone. This, I can assure you, is true. Whether this improvable fact is a good thing or bad, I have yet to determine. My heart has broken so many times that it no longer resembles a heart- just a mass of red and bandages. Yet it still beats. That's the most amazing thing about humans- our resiliency, ability to bounce back after facing a calamity. A finger can be surgically reattached after it is severed; a bone can grow stronger than before after a clean break. And a young woman can find herself falling in love again, even after being wronged many times.

I believe in second chances. In fact, I believe in infinite chances- because if someone wants to try again badly enough to ask for another opportunity, they more than deserve it. Not everyone understands the strength it takes to be so incredibly vulnerable. Some people see it as a weakness- my vulnerability. I see it as my greatest asset.

My story, like all good ones, is marred with heartbreak and screams and terror and unspeakable things. It is also filled with a great amount of laughter and love. You can't protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness as well. Sunlight has to have shadows; otherwise, nothing would be real. I'd like to say, after everything that has happened, that I am incredibly real.

The book you are holding in your hands is the story of my life. Every painful, shocking, glorious moment is recorded and preserved in these pages. Interspersed with my experiences are letters written by a myriad of people who have affected my life in some way. This book was harder to write; ever harder to read. I am not ashamed.

It was not my idea to write this memoir. I'd like to think I'm not so vain as to believe my life is that actually worth reading about. And I can't help but wonder if people will actually want read about a wide-eyed girl making her way through life. But I'm sitting here, banging on the keys of my laptop. This story is flowing through my fingertips as steady as the tears.

This ordinary account of my tiny universe might not be enough for you. That's okay. But if it is, keep reading.

Next part up very soon!