April 10, 1990 | Tacoma | Age 12
Dear Diary,
Yes I am keeping to my promises (as best I can). I cannot believe how quickly I've filled up this diary. I'm already planning what I might write in my next journal. Lots of dried plants and stuff. Probably be covering everything I missed here. I hope.
Right now I'm sitting in my waterbed (which my father made for me years ago, yes he's still in Iawa [sic]). My window is open, and a cool fresh breeze is brushing my neck. It feels magical.
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I told you it'd be neat and tidy.
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I feel bad that I don't write more. But at least I do at all, right?
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Dear Twelve, Go easy on yourself. It's hard to write every day and bad feeling makes it even more challenging. You're doing an awesome job. Xo, Sarah (Age 33)
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