Somewhere in the darkened recesses of my mind exist memories of my youth, reality and fantasy. Both on the eclipse of vanishing. Among them is a name I created to whom I used to write. Not so much an invisible friend, as something that sounded better than writing Dear Diary – Dear Alayana.
Don’t ask where I got the name; it just came from out of the blue. I started keeping a journal in high school, Dear Alayana. All my old notes are long gone now. How is she envisioned? However you want. Mostly I see her in a ghostly fashion.
Her voice was just a whisper in my head. She was a flickering question prompting me to write stories and poetry during homeroom or just whenever. She’s no more than my imagination.
Take a trip down memory lane with the old stories and poems from high school upwards, to some extent.