Chapter Twenty-Two

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As Beth and Jack turn back around to go to class, I blink away the tears that sting my eyes.

Jealousy is a monster, Clarissa.

I scuttle into the elevator, longing for solitude.  A feeling inside of me is starting to take over, one my mother never allowed me to show.

Flinging myself through the doorway, I sprint to my bed and land face-down, chocking on my sobs as my tears soak in the white covers.  They don't stain anything - they're translucent.

I wish I could be translucent, never noticed, blending into the shadows of others.  I suppose that's what will happen to whoever ends up marrying Alexander.  Always in his shadow, because we fear the ones who have more power than us, don't we?

My sobs sharpen as sharp as my nervous breathes, and suddenly I know which direction my compass is pointing.  Here I am a third wheel, the awkward person far on the boundaries of Beth and Jack's peripheral vision.

I long for comfort, for my friends, for love.  Someone who I know will love me unconditionally, not just a friend.

I long to hear their voices, to be reassured that I am loved.

But I can't.  The Palace is too far away to be seen, but close to my heart.  The closest thing I can get to talking to them is my diary.

The diary!

I run out of bed, the covers wrapping around my legs and nearly tripping me.  I collide with nearly every pice of furniture in my rush to get to my luggage.

Ripping open the zipper, I sigh in relief.  The diary is right on top where I put it.

The first page sits black and teasing in front of me, where I now sit criss-cross applesauce on my couch.

I don't know how to start, but as they say, starting is 80% of the battle.

I make a list of possible beginnings.

Dear Diary

Dear Cecelia

Dear Eleanor

Dear Hope

Dear Beth

Dear Maxon

Dear Alexander

Dear Cora

I ponder my choices that seem to be dead on the page.  The only one that shows any bit of life is...well,...

Dear Alexander.

So...here it goes!

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