As Long As You're In The Food

In The Book Soldiers On The Home Front, I Was Greatly Struck By The Fact That In Childbirth Alone, Women Commonly Suffer More Pain, Illness And Misery Than Any War Hero Ever Does. An What's Her Reward For Enduring All That Pain? She Gets Pushed Aside When She's Disfigured By Birth, Her Children Soon Leave, Hear Beauty Is Gone. Women, Who Struggle And Suffer Pain To Ensure The Continuation Of The Human Race, Make Much Tougher And More Courageous Soldiers Than All Those Big-mouthed Freedom-fighting Heroes Put Together.

I Never Utter My Real Feelings About Anything. My Lighter, Superficial Side Will Always Be Too Quick For The Deeper Side Of Me, And That's Why It Always Wins.

I Soothe My Conscience Now With The Thought That It Is Better For Hard Words To Be On Paper Than That Mummy Should Carry Them In Her Heart.

Yes, There Is No Doubt That Paper Is Patient And As I Don't Intend To Show This Cardboard-covered Notebook, Bearing The Proud Name Of "diary," To Anyone, Unless I Find A Real Friend, Boy Or Girl, Probably Nobody Cares. And Now I Come To The Root Of The Matter, The Reason For My Starting A Diary: It Is That I Have No Such Real Friend.

I Want To Go On Living Even After Death!