What if - no if.
This is the first day of the rest of my life, or so they say.
Do you remember when I was little - the things I thought about and experienced? When did they stop being true? Or am I staying true to myself? My worst fear that Time stopped being my ally. It used to seem that I have a minute for everyone's second. An hour for everyone's minute. Now I'm chasing time, almost breathlessly. I feel like I'm constantly failing myself, my own expectation. If I should fail I suppose God would have someone else finish the task, but I can't have that. I can't lose the purpose of my existence. I've come so far... I can't let it down.
This is my testament, Diary. I alone must manage it. By God I will.