18th April 2006

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Dear Diary,

I am ill.

I can't walk.

I can't speak. Not that I have anyone to talk to.

I can't sleep at night.

I can't eat properly.

What is my disease?

Its the disease of guilt.

I am suffering, and there is no one to console me. Not even my family.

After all, I'm different.

Love,

Lucy.

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