Prologue

 December 25, 1881

  Dear Journal,

  Apparently I'm supposed to fill you with my thoughts and woes, that's what grandmother told me when she gave you to me.
  I can't refer to you as an 'it' because, well, I want to treat you as my one and only friend.
  It may be mad to describe you as 'you', but I don't think so.

  Anyways, on with the feelings.

  Grandmother seems to have finally noticed lately how sad I am, and told me you would help me with this thing called 'depression'.
  I don't know what she's talking about, but let's just say for a moment that I do have this 'depression', and that I do need help.
  Maybe you could?
  Let's just see what happens, shall we?

  Oh, mother's calling me for supper.
  I have to pretend I'm asleep or she'll force me to eat again.
  I leave you with this quick and short message.
  God knows when I'll write to you again.
  For now I leave you under my pillow for the night. 

Your Dearest,

Lucy White