May 21, 1814

Goodmorning.

Dear A Wish upon a star, come here, wherever it is that you really are.

The short stems of grass flitter through the brillant light of the sun. Passing through the dirty window and broken bits of tree bark sitting out side. They mock me. They exhibit the qualties of my life, my past, my deception. They are torn. Fractured. Fragmented. Shattered. Pulverized. Splintered.

That's me.

A fool. A phony. A hoax. Someone who wants to be trusted.

Why Must It End THIS way?

Don't leave me here alone. Come back for me. Remember who I once was. Please. It's who I wish to be.

Yours Truly,

A girl unknown