Dear Reader,

Diaries were always something i was told were private. Why? Because they contain our thoughts, our feelings, what we did each day and what we were thinking each day. But isn't that just proof that we were here? That we lived, and that each day was as unique as the other. This is a story of how i decided i wanted my life to be more than just words on a page, more than a series of notes in a book destined to never be read, more than a tale of a life that dies along with the writer, more than memories doomed to be forgotten.