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Serena Anderson

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Gender: Female
Posts: 59
xx The Diary of Serena Anderson
« Thread started on: Nov 18th, 2007, 09:34am »

Dear Diary,

I can't express exactly how I have been feeling lately in words. All I could possibly do is write what has happened in the last couple of days or so and hope that my feelings become obvious. Sometimes I think that I am incapable of speaking... but I'm not. I could just as easily say what I am writing right now, but I just choose not to.
I don't know why that is... maybe it is because mother is not arobd anymore. Mother used to listen to all of my problems and help me with them. That witch father is married to now could care less about my problems. All she worries about is whether the garden looks good or not.

I decided to take some flowers by the hospital the other day. Seeing all of those sick and hurt people makes me sad. But there was one specific man there who said that he used to be a journalist. Boy did he seem nice... if only I could have said what I wanted to say without thinking that I would look stupid.
There were people around him though, unlike the others who were very alone. I can't remember their names though. Only Wesley, because he reminded me of my father. A couple of bad things happen and all of a sudden a perfectly good journalist decides to waste his career.

After that I decided to go on up to Liliy Hill. Sometimes watching the sunset can be the greatest healing power there is. Not that I have much that needs to be healed. I met a man up there, the milk man to be exact. His name was Dan. I think I said more to him than I have said to anyone in a whole two months.
He was very nice. Dan even said that he understood my shyness and inability to talk to people. It's good that someone understands.

I don't know what's wrong with me. Constantly it's blush and stutter. I don't want to be so shy, but I'm afraid... afraid to be outgoing. If I remind father of mother then he will get angry. I don't want him to get angry. Maybe I should just stop talking all togehter. Jason doesn't seem to have a problem with talking to people. So why am I the only one that has this problem?
Maybe I'm just not meant to know... maybe I was never meant to say all that much to people. Why should they get to see the real me when all of them are just as fake?

From now on there is no preending. I may still stammer and stutter and blush, but if I need to say something... then I am going to try and say it. I hope this turns out well.

Serena Anderson
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