ALENA'S DIARY

ALENA'S DIARY

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"Dear Diary...promise me you won't ever fall into the wrong hands." - Signed Alena Rae Golden - Psst...I found this diary and here's a little secret, it isn't mines. It's Alena's. You know, Alena Rae Golden? Haven't you heard of her? No? Well, that is her name. But from what I've read so far, her prescribed medication is what keeps her sane. She started off as a Little brown girl growing up in America, all sweet and beloved, until one day her innocence was tamed. Her pillows are never dry. The tears she's been crying for years, keeps them wet. And ohh, boy! let us not get started on her bed sheets, they are always drenched in sweat, From the nightmares...Night after Night. Everyday her body is constantly in Flight or Fight. The world is not yet ready for her. She's a ticking time bomb, that's is bound to explode any day now. Therapy isn't working. Her medication only works for the moment, and God doesn't seems to be listening. This is her story...Her Diary. Alena's Diary. and it has fallen into the wrong hands. Mine. And the wrong set of eyes. Mine and now Yours.
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#65
blackgirlmagic
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Book One of Five in the New Beginnings Series. **You do NOT have to read Inhale, Exhale, & Breathe to enjoy these stories** #1 in bxb tag: 09/21/2024 #4 in friendstolovers tag: 9/21/2024 CYRUS PIERCE: I'm content in my almost soundless world. I prefer to live through the romance stories I weave and post online. Hardly anyone reads my books, even if they're free, but I do have one fan, and he's supported me since I started writing two years ago. Except, my writing started to take a depressing dive when I realized that you simply couldn't prevent nor protect your heart from falling for someone. For him. For the one who had no interest in me. When I fell in love with him, I thought we had a chance. It was an accident. Turned out, I couldn't be more wrong. He doesn't want me, and I wasn't supposed to have him. It didn't matter if he showed up in the bookstore every day, talking to everyone else except me. Nor did it matter at all because he didn't know sign language. He couldn't learn. We couldn't communicate. But after I go on a date and it ends in putrid disaster, he makes his appearance known, and he's angry. Then he's doing things for me that confuse me. My stories are filling up with pages of content, dreams that I want to come true, and my mystery commenter encourages me to continue-to reach my happiness. To take what I want. But the activities planned start sparking familiarity-like I lived it before, or maybe dreamed it. Or maybe, just maybe, I'd written it before? My mind is spiraling, but I can't stop myself from getting closer and closer to him. I'm not supposed to have him, but my heart craves him. Sage Monroe, I'm in love with you, and I'm scared now because I have a feeling that you've been communicating with me in more ways than one.

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