Write something. Anything. Just write, Le'al told herself.

She opened the diary. It was new. The kind with the magnetic close. No lines, just blank sheets inside. Le'al put her pen against the paper. Drew a heart. Filled it in, leaving a crack down the middle.

Le'al let the pen rolled from her fingers.

When did I start feeling depressed. When did things start to look bad all the time for no real reasons. She bumped her head against the wall. She had been trying to write in her diary each day for two weeks. Nothing would come.

She thought, What is it I have to say? Where are the words? For all of the pain I go through, I have nothing. Nothing to say in words on paper. Maybe it is just too soon. Or, maybe I'm not the diary type.

Le'al got up with the diary in her hand. She dropped it in the trash.

Then thought, Relax - just take your time.

She reached in the trash. Wiped garden vegetable juice from last night's oodles and noodles from the front, and put it on the counter.