Miss Victoria

I met Miss Victoria three weeks ago during my daily wandering in a land yet to exist but I wished it would soon. A land not on any map, but alive in my mind.

She had begged me to share her diary.
"Would you share my fishy with your audience?" she asked with eyes full of hope.

"No, I won't. They only read important things about life. Not some childish diary entries of a sixteen-year-old girl."

I saw the way that hurt her.
She stopped meeting me at the tree in the middle of the land. The place where she always waited.

I searched for her not because I missed the stories, but because I was worried. I told myself it was just to make sure she was okay.

When she finally let me see her again, her eyes were puffy. Face swollen.
She had been crying, hard and long.

I had to right my wrong.

So, I asked her again.
"Would you share your diary with me? I'll send it out to the world. Maybe someone out there might love to read it."

Her eyes lit up. My bubbly Victoria returned. She began to speak again.
She told her stories and I wrote. Sometimes she mixed events, jumping timelines and repeating moments, but they were always interesting. Always raw.

"Does my diary deserve your audience now?" she asked again.

"I don't know yet," I replied honestly.
"It's up to them to decide. So far, no one has said a word about it."

She frowned. Not at me but at the world.
She wanted to be seen. Not judged. Just... heard. She wanted guidance, not correction. She wanted to know her little secrets didn't make her unworthy of love and probably receive advice on what to do best.

So here I am. Sending her entries to you.
Hoping someone will read. Hoping someone will understand her before she gives up again.