Yesterday was a whirlwind. I did not have time to journal last night about my Ceremony, so I will do so now. Before I begin, I must preface this by saying that what I am about to write is not what happened “officially.” It is what actually happened, but hopefully no one else will ever know.
I know that by writing the truth in this journal, I am from now on going to constantly worry about whose hands hold this journal, and which eyes peruse its contents. This journal is my co-conspirator in events that may in the future prove life-threatening.
Now that I’ve gotten the terribleness off of my chest, I can at least say that the Ceremony was actually quite nice. Mom and Dad were obviously nervous, but I think by the end they at least settled down enough to swallow some of the chocolate cake. They were expecting the worst. The worst, according to the official record, did not happen.
My letter is still unopened, and it is lying at the bottom of the hidden compartment in the back of my closet. There it will stay until I see fit to otherwise remove it. It must not be opened.
Of course, I did read a letter aloud at the ceremony. It just wasn’t mine. It was all made up.