May. 05, 2003 - 6:51 p.m.
If you should ever come across a hand written journal with the following words on the inside of the cover, back away slowly. Place it softly back in the spot where you last saw it. Do NOT, under any circumstances, read it. Your soul will be forfeit if you do.
This is my fate.
These are my loves: the souls that are bound to me.
This is my curse.
This is sobriety.
This is the undertow, the current that sweeps me away.
This is my eternal night.
This is a count of days.
These are my dreams, my fears.
This is my sorrow, my grief, my rage.
This is the fire that drives me onward.
This is a new page.
This is the sound of my heart breaking.
This is not choice, its destiny.
These are my words (with some help from a muse).
This is my diary.
