Dear Diary, I got this letter from my mother the Queen, bless her, Here is the letter,
(I pasted it in).

Dear Zamera,
You are in grave danger! You must flee from the Palace and seek refuge with your aunt Vanthena. I know I’ve never mentioned her before but she is your last chance. Mariane will take you to her. Be brave Zamera. That vulgar cousin of yours, Gareth, is trying to usurp the throne. If he finds you he will kill you or worse, so flee my beautiful daughter. With love, Queen Elena

Nothing could make me happy. Nothing could make me smile. I had every right to not be happy or smiling.
I was lost in a City where no one spoke English and even finding those whom speak it would be hard.
I wasn’t paying attention and they kept walking but I had stopped. I turn expecting them behind me but instead an older woman with gray hair took the place behind her starring at the art display in the window.
I turned and looked but they were no where to be found. Lost in a crowd of people they had walked on thinking I was trotting behind.

Every winter as a child I would pray for snow. Deep down I felt it was pointless as I would stare out the living room window at the cloudy sky, willing it to let loose those soft white flakes that would cover the imperfect landscape in a spotless shining blanket. Up to that point snow had not been something I was acquainted with, and staring out the window I would free my mind to wander the paths where snow lived eternally. I spent every winter thus wrapped up in my daydreams, far from earth and far from reality.

Why do people take everything,
I say,
Bend and twist it 'til it goes,
The wrong way,
People that I never meant,
To offend,
Taught me a lesson,
Never do it again.

Everyone seems to have
Something against,
The things that I said,
The time I spent,
The way that it went.

Why can't anyone,
Understand,
It’s like I'm being isolated,
Stuffed in a can,
Isolated in my own little land,
Still, no one offers their hand.

Princess Eileen strode elegantly down the castle corridor, her petite figure casting a shadow on the wall in the dim light. Her heart was pounding, and she could hardly repress a smile. Tonight was the night of the royal ball, held once every five years. At the last one she had been eleven, too young to dance, and too young to search for a suitor, which were the soul purposes of the royal ball. She wondered what her sister would be doing this evening, but didn't linger on that for too long.