Dear Angie.

Chapter One

1st January 2007

Dear Angie, 

I'm not quite sure how to begin this entry. I've tried several times to jot down my thoughts and experiences in a notebook, but it all seemed so pointless. Why would I write down my emotions on a piece of lifeless junk for no reason at all? Claire suggested letter writing, and my thoughts immediately shifted to you, Angelissa, my darling twin. The dead cannot speak to the living, so I guess my secrets are safe with you. 

I never got to know you, and you me. Would it be pointless to introduce myself? Father Caleb says that our loved ones watch us from above. Do you know everyone's secrets? Are the dead really all that knowing? But on the off chance that you are in some heaven having fun and forgetting me, my name is Emilia Johnson. Everyone just calls me Lia though. 

Am I suppose to write about how interesting my day was now? I don't have anything to write. My life is just a repeat of what I do everyday. Eat, go to school, come back and do some homework, sleep. Sometimes I crave excitement. I'm turning 16 this July for God's sake! Shouldn't there be a Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet? Or a deadly dragon that I am to slay?

Maybe it'll be different. I don't know. I'll probably spen the rest of my life at some boring office job, dead eyes trained on a computer, typing away at the computer, living off coffee. 

Everyday, I watch everyone laugh and smile. They're contented with their small and significant lives. I want to be different. I want everyone to know my name, Angie. I want to die in the glory of fame. I want to be known. 

God, I sound like an attention whore, don't I? Like those bimbos in my school, willing to do anything for attention. Do not misunderstand me, sister. I want to be known for something GREAT, not for something as small as beauty or sex. I want to be like Marie Curie. Like Stalin. Like Lincoln.

Fi thinks I'm crazy. Pathetic. I don't even know how I'm related to her. She wants to be a model. Can you think of anything more useless? Claire wants me to go over. I guess I have to stop now. Goodbye, lovely Angelissa. 

Love,

Lia

14th April 2007

Dear Angie, 

I feel like two parts of my soul are fighting. Ma says that we're moving. How dare she! I wasn't told of this arrangement until today. We're moving tomorrow. 

Part of me feels so free. We're moving from this small and stuffy town to New York. New York, Angie! I could squeal! Maybe I'll make something of myself there. Maybe. 

But I have to leave Claire. I don't want to. She's the only one who understands me. She's the only one who has been there for me. She shines in the God forsaken town of rednecks. She has a chance . She understands. 

I spent the entire day at Claire house. We ate popcorn and watched chick flicks. It felt like the old times. I don't know what I feel. 

Everything is so confusing. To top it all off, Claire's 18 year old brother, Lenoir, tried talking to me today. It was so awkward. I was in the kitchen. "Hey," he greeted me. I greeted him back, of course. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but than he close it, with a bewildered look. He was adorable, and I wanted to hug him, but he bolted off, blushing. 

It was peculiar, I don't know what up with Lenoir, but Claire seems to know. I asked her about it, but she just smiled and giggled. 

I guess I'd better go now. Maybe I'll write tomorrow, so you don't have to wait four months for the next entry.

Love, 

Lia

15th April 2007

Dear Angie, 

I already miss Claire. It seems like I hugged her only a few seconds ago, not a few hours ago.

Lenoir was there too. It felt good to say goodbye to him, although we were were not close friends. We used to be though, back in kindergarten, but once he reached Grade Three, he didn't talk to me anymore, and we drifted apart. 

He pecked me on the cheek when it was his turn to bade me goodbye. He blushed, and I knew that I had turned crimson. What the hell is wrong with me? Did you know that he sort of smells like brownies, just out of the oven?

Am I developing a crush on Lenoir? All I can think about is his smell. Do you think he likes me? 

SHUT UP BRAIN.

I don't know what wrong with me. Let's just move on, I don't want to think about the Duval anymore. 

New York feels packed. Like everyone is trying to squeeze into one small plot of land, and everyone seems to be rushing to go somewhere. 

It's so different from what I'm used to, but I'll get used to it. At least I hope so. 

Love, 

Lia. 

For Sarah Khoo(don't know if you have Wattpad, so yeah....) and the awesome authour of Truly, Madly, Deadly! You're book was awesome!