10 358

We're down to half the number of people we started with.

I know, I said I'd stop writing in this diary. But, I couldn't keep away. This journal has become a part of me.

Despite the few entries, I've poured my heart and soul into this. I've put down as many feelings as I could jam into these few vague pages of writing. It's the one place where I feel like I can truly express myself, where I can lay down my burdens and be myself. No one will judge me, no one will feel pressured or try to reassure me with words they themselves don't believe.

And more importantly, it's one of my only sources of hope.

I know I sound like a broken record. I've already said this, several times. But it is really something I treasure. It's my light in all of this darkness. I hold onto this hope that someone will read this and remember me, maybe not for what I am, but for who I am. I don't want to end up like all of those others who can only be remembered through their numbers. I have hope that someone will find this, and they will come to know me, the real me.

Sometimes, this hope is all I have left. Little as it is, it keeps me afloat. I want to continue living so that I can continue writing my story.

I don't know if this journal will survive my deletion. I don't know if anybody will find it. I don't know if it will just be found and thrown away or disregarded. But I do know that there's a chance, albeit a small one, that this writing could become the only proof of my existence. This may seem sad, but actually, I'm not all that upset at that thought. I have already learned to accept the fact that I will eventually be deleted.

But maybe, just maybe, this journal could help me survive even past my deletion.