Entry 1

Oct 23rd, 1897. A rainy day.

Dearest journal,

Standing in a desolate cemetery with plantlife growing on tombstones and unmarked graves surrounding me, my day lacks moral and empathy. I have casted all my emotions into the dark pit of despair to leave only guilt and sadness to grow. I feel drained…and devoid of any positive emotions. All because of today. Today is the day of my beloved’s funeral and as I stand with her many family and friends, dread and loneliness cast over me. The thought of being in the world without my beloved is a thought I 'd never think I would have to face. While the sun settled behind her tombstone, I can’t seem to grasp my own pondering.

What if I talked to her more? Would she have stayed with me that night?

Was I too much of a coward to confront her?

Was I oblivious to any pain she had?

What could I have done?

Could I have prevented her death? Make her not jump?

I don't know what to think. These thoughts have been plaguing me since the funeral was under planning. But I must be going journal , the funeral has ended and I best be heading home. Tonight I will need to rest my aching soul at home.

Sincerely yours, Alexander