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Submitted on
May 14, 2005
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Entry one:
Dearest Adrian,
It is in my sad recollection of memories that brings me to bleed with my quill onto this page.  But his face, was all too beautiful, the lonely reminder that even though I am disillusioned to the world once of beauty, I am still alive.  And yet even as the grass swayed in this dark place there was no light except from Him, and even from Him ‘tis dim.  His silent walk upon the hollow ground was every so soft like a melody of realism, the only illusion was that of his serenity.  I could see it the longing in his weak pale eyes the fact that this lonely child is nothing more than a ghost of what he used to be.  And yet still he is ever so magnificent, ever so wondrous, and ever so beautiful.  And I take it that indeed Fate has plucked her chord to woo me to his feet.  Yet still insecure of my potential, what is left under the layers of scar tissue I do not know.  But I know he is the one, the one who will fix me to heal these wounds.  It is like you said, after the first ever so fleeting glimpse as I laid upon the cold stone of this forbidden plot, it was the first time I could cry.  
Signed,
The Mourner


Torn edges and empty shades,
Lost shadows upon the page.

Entry four:
Dearest Adrian,

It is that same feeling that always draws Him to this spot.  The way he can just get lost in the soft tones of the crashing waves on the old rock wall.  His infatuation of the place is brought out by the homeliness that never ceases to depress my poor child.  Hunched like a forgotten doll, arms limp, body collapsed, chin lowered to his knees.  This is no longer the boy of joy and life that was once held in the arms of many, now it is a shell, an empty shell void of life and emotion.  And this is how He will sit, it is the relapse to Her, the seductress, who has lured his heart and persists to drive her hate into it.  That is this Boy’s love.  She has stolen what once made him the pride and joy of all, the glimmering star of hope.  If not for Her, He, the glorious, could breathe free.  Yet He would die for Her, the seductress that uses Him only for the sex.  It is emotionless her gaze is cold, black, wretched.  Yet He cannot help but gaze into Her sparkling eyes.  And this is why He sits alone, empty.  He is seen as a lie and fake to some, dead to others, and some die as fanatics for this poor Boy.  Sad Child, weep for She will torture you, but the end is soon one day you will be glorious.  For me you are not dead, not fake, and simply weak.  I cry for You.

Signed,
The Mourner

Torn edges and empty shades,
Lost shadows upon the page.
Entry nine:
Dearest Adrian,

The fool I was, so inconceivable.  What lies has my fragile memory been based on, a nothingness of chaotic memories built upon the fragile foundations of glass.  And yet I accepted it, and sipped the cyanide, knowing its effects, willingly succumbing to my weakness.  Just to feel alive once more I believed myself, in order to lie to myself.   But this is what happened, finally after the one day of watching Him; I saw her come, and rape Him upon His place.  He gave no rejection, once again restored; the most alive and beautiful I have ever seen him.  But it was not Him who showed me the lies, it was Her.  How evil She is, to the core rotten with only the most vile thoughts upon crimes against all emotion.  Her eyes raged in fire as she screamed so softly in the night in supreme ecstasy.  And He, only lying there until the release, and harsh realization that this was a lie.  As she reared back and whispered, in his ears, but the whisper was shrill and echoed in the naked night.  You’re Nothing.  And this is when I looked down at the Boy once more and no longer saw what I thought had been there before.  Now lay a carcass, the decaying flesh of what was left of a dying animal.  And I approached Her in her beauty, though full of wrath, so beautiful.  Eye to eye, I saw my reflection as I became one with Her, and now He is mine.  

Signed,
The Temptress

Torn edges and empty shades,
Lost shadows upon the page.
A hope once there but now so lost,
Forever forgotten, dead carcass in dry moss.
Wow I could not figure out where to put this badboy. Just to clear things up ill help out but there will be spoilers
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The journal entries, are a series of letters written by the unfaithful "mourner" to the guardian angel.
It doesnt have to be a girl, it could be, up to you. It tracks the finding and loss of faith in Him (god),
where the eventual loss is due to Her(humanity).
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