Hey Diary,
I'm wondering if it's good to write how I feel. It brings back memories. They're painful. I can still here the screech of wood as the branch breaks and the thud of it-the tree house and me- landing on the floor. And the crunch of the wood slats snapping as the balcony slides off of it. I can still remember the splinters from where I crawled to her still form. The scarlet pool just a hand span away...

Goodnight diary..