This story isn’t like other stories. It doesn’t start with ‘once upon a time’. The ending is not a ‘happily ever after’. If you want to hear a story like that, I suggest you rent a Disney film. You will find very little to cause happiness in this story, unless you’re the sort of person who enjoys subterfuge, betrayal, torture and double-agents. If that sort of thing entertains you, then feel free to skip this introduction and get on with the story.

For those of you who are still reading this, I feel obligated to offer some explanation for the story you are about to read.

The events recorded in this story are true. They really happened, to me, and to others. They caused me much strife, and it has taken me years to come to terms with it enough to attempt putting them into writing. During the course of the events I kept a sketchy, sporadic journal. I have included some of my journal entries, although only a few were written in a way that others would understand.

Without further ado, I end my ramblings and leave you to examine my past.

Sincerely,
A shattered soul.

This is something I found a while back in one of my notebooks. I barely remember writing it, and I haven't the foggiest idea what the inspiration behind it was. Personally, I think it's always fun to find an old piece of writing you had forgotten about. I may use this snippet as the beginning of a book some day, for all I know. But until I decide what to use it for, it remains exactly what it is: A snippet. A forgotten piece of writing with no meaning, no context, and no remaining inspiration.

This was accompanied by a poem, which I shared the other day. Sometimes I get into inspired moods, and I just have to write. I wrote five poems in one morning once. Other times I go days or weeks without writing a thing. Those times are always very frustrating for me.

On a side note, I've been listening to Yiruma, a very talented Korean pianist, for the last half hour or so. I just learned one of his songs on piano recently, but listening to his music makes me feel inadequate. I feel like I should be writing music like his. After playing piano for thirteen or fourteen years I ought to be able to write amazing songs. I mean, sure, my music is okay. People tell me it's good, and I'm usually pretty pleased with it, but still. Sometimes I wish I could be good enough at composing to make a living with it... (Maybe I ought to have started taking professional lessons a few years earlier...)

- Aimee