Dear Diary

It’s me again.

It has been such a long time since I have had a chance to write either from lack of materials or lack of the energy to write. Gosh I cannot remember how long it has been since I have had proper food in my belly. I expect that if Laila had not found me last night or soon thereafter I would likely have died in that little room. I don’t think I could have even crawled anywhere and either I would have slowly starved the rest of the way to death or a walker would have found me and finished the job. I suppose I owe Laila a great deal, I only wish that I knew how to tell her.

Here on paper it is easy to order my thoughts. When there are others around, when I have to form words to tell … I never seem to be able to articulate all of the things in my mind and heart.

I wonder what the people in this town must think when they see me. I know I am something of a pitiful creature on the outside and I can hardly blame them if they believe many things about myself. If I were not inside my own head and able to know my own thoughts I too would think I was some fragile broken thing, likely damaged in wits and perchance even insane.

But I am still me. In my mind I am more me then I ever have been I think. It is just my body that does not cooperate … does not let me show who I really am. Perhaps someday, when I have felt safe for a very long time. Someday when I am not afraid anymore, I will be able to show them that I am me. Clear, and intelligent, bright, creative … all the things that are me, just locked within a very scarred and broken shell. I shall always hold on to the hope that that day will come.

I must still hope otherwise I would not have taken Laila’s hand last night.

I am going to try to sleep again. I do not really remember what a good nights sleep is like any more and I expect I really truly need it. So I will try again even if the dreams come.

Goodnight Dear Diary