A girl walked into her room. She was dressed in all black and her cheeks were trailing with tears. She wanted to throw something. She wanted to scream at someone. She wanted to let her emotions run free, but she could not. She was scared of what people would think. She was scared of what she would become if she did. She has to contain her emotions, so everyone would think that she is fine. So that she does not turn into the monster she knows she can become. There must be another way to let her sorrows run free, to rid herself of the pain. Maybe if her feelings were written she would not have to pretend like everything is okay. She rummaged through an old box she hid in her closet. At last she found what she was looking for, her childhood diary. She opened to a blank pink page with a floral border and lowered her shaking hand down to the page, and in the black ink emitting from her pen she began to write:
Dear Sister,
I cannot hold my feelings in forever, but I also cannot let them out into the real world. You, will be there for me when I need someone to talk to. You will understand me. You will know every detail about me. You will be a part of me that no one would know about. Everything written in you will remain between us not a living or dead soul will ever know. This will be as if you are still alive, like you never left me alone. Let us begin with this painstakingly dreadful day. It all began with your funeral.
You were driving home late from a friend’s house when your life was taken from you. That was about a week ago. I remember going to the accident site and just seeing red. There was so much blood. Then when I saw you lying in your hospital bed, your  skin paler than the bed sheets covering your body. The doctors gave me a glimpse of hope. They told me that you were in a coma, that you were still alive, that you would wake up at some point in time. I thought that I would have you back again. Two days later I was sitting in your hospital room and the little spikes on the heart monitor fell flat. You had left this world once and for all. At the funeral, all these people came who pretended to know you. They barely even knew your name, but they were mourning with their friends as if they lost the closest person to them, which I did. They don’t know what it feels like, to feel this dead inside. I do not mind if they were sad, but to pretend that they knew you well is just sick. I lost my best friend. You were the person who I knew was going to be by my side for my entire life and now you are gone. I had to speak about you at the funeral. I wanted to say the truth to all the attendees who knew nothing about you. I wanted to tell them that you had left this world too young. Your life was not fulfilled, you were supposed to graduate college, get a job, find love, and grow old, but instead you are a lifeless corpse buried six feet under the ground. I told them about how great of a person you were and how much you would be missed, a typical funeral speech just to satisfy the masses and shield them from the brutal truth. I want my sister back, but that could never happen. That is why I look to you, you are another form of my sister. I need you to help me move on from your death so I can live a normal life again. So that I would go days without feeling the sympathy of all the people I speak with everyday. So I can let all the hatred and sadness out of my system. So I can be happy again.
       Yours Truly,
        Your Sister