Diary of Anne Miller ( sad story)

Prologue

I huff frustratedly as I glance through my closet looking for anything that could possibly help me through today. I see many things, I see my cap and gown, my old pictures from my highschool life, and tons of other useless junk.
Maybe looking through this closet was a bad idea.

Before I can make the decision of giving up I hear a voice behind me, "Anne, you need to take a break. You're stressing yourself out and it isn't healthy for you, or the baby." I sigh staring squarely at my over protective husband, "But Zach, I --" He shakes his head grabbing me by the waist pulling me to him. It's kind of hard being in his embrace given my huge baby bump, "Sweetheart, I told you, everything is fine. You don't need to worry, now, do you want anything to eat?" He asks searching my face for any emotion questionable, I shake my head.

"No, but I'm going to take a nap." He nods kissing my forehead, "In that case I think I'll watch some football, let me know if you need something," I nod and watch him leave. Instantly, I walk back over to the closet my eyes scanning the closet and that's when my eyes land on a box. It's squished under several others and is taped from top to bottom.

I reach for it and pull it down blaming the dust off the top of the shoe box. I don't ever remember having this, curiously I cut away the tap and open the lid. When I see what's inside I gasp as tears fill my eyes and I become shaky.
Slowly, I pick up the green book that's as big as an eight by ten picture frame and feel it. It feels exactly how I remember it, and I but it makes me feel exactly how I felt.

Opening up the book with shaky hands I red the first page.

Anne Miller, August 3, 2008

I can't believe I'm reading it.
I can't believe I'm doing this again, I can't believe this was my life.