(words in italics are Tyler's writings and bold words are Emily's)

As soon as we got home, I ran up to my room. I dug the little leather bound journal out of the bottom desk drawer, I had put it there in an attempt to hid it from Michelle and Mandy. After getting a pen, I went to sit on my bed and opened the journal.

The first page was filled with words. It looked like this had been someone's personal journal. This felt like an invasion of someone's privacy, but I guess my curiosity got the better of me. So I read.

Michael, why? What was going through your mind? Caroline won't stop crying. I'm scared. Mom and Dad are yelling at each other. Michael, what is happening? Everything is falling apart.

Was it so horrible that you had to end your life? I know you didn't like working at the office with Dad and I know you hated giving up the band. You could have talked to me, I'm not a kid anymore more.

I'm trying to find answers here in the journal I gave you for Christmas. But, you didn't write in it; not one song. I guess I'll keep it.

Michael, what am I supposed to do? How can I forgive you? I'm lost without you.

I looked, open-mouthed, at the page. The original owner of the journal, Michael, had committed suicide. And someone, a sibling maybe?, had gotten this journal and had written to Michael in it.


The author's words were pleading. It was so weird. I wanted to help, but I knew there was no way I could. I understand how they felt. The feeling of being lost was a familiar notion.

I guess I completely lost my mind because I flipped to the first empty page to write back.

I understand feeling lost. It's like I'm just wandering through life. I don't have a direction. I don't have a purpose. I don't have a reason.

I honestly have no idea what I'm going to do in life. Michael must have been very special to you if he helped you to feel sure about things. I think I need someone like that.

I can't imagine what it was like to lose him. The only comparison I have is my parents. When I was little, they were my guiding light. I didn't care what happened as long as I was with them. And when their marriage ended, I lost my path. Nothing has ever been the same. I've never really thought about it before. I guess things fell apart for me too.

Everything is confusing.

In all honesty, writing back to the unknown author kind of made me feel better. I decide to make this my escape now. Writing to unknown people probably wasn't the sanest idea in the world, but I would make it work.

At the moment, I couldn't think of anything more to write. My situation with James seemed so small in comparison to the larger, looming problem that was my future. So I put the journal back into my desk drawer and got the stuff out of my bag to work on my calculus homework.

About an hour later, there was a knock on the door. "Come in." I answered. Dad opened the door just enough to poke his head in. "I just talked to Dr. Kellerman on the phone." He said, "He says Claire's ready for the first meeting with the social worker. It's tomorrow at noon." "Alright." I replied. Dad closed the door then, but reopened it a moment later. "Don't forget what I told you." He reminded me. I just nodded, "I won't."