I Can't Help Telling You That I've

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've Found That There Is Always Some Beauty Left -- In Nature, Sunshine, Freedom, In Yourself; These Can All Help You.

I Don't Have Much In The Way Of Money Or Worldly Possessions, I'm Not Beautiful, Intelligent Or Clever, But I'm Happy, And I Intend To Stay That Way! I Was Born Happy, I Love People, I Have A Trusting Nature, And I'd Like Everyone Else To Be Happy Too.

I Don't Want To Have Lived In Vain Like Most People. I Want To Be Useful Or Bring Enjoyment To All People, Even Those I've Never Met. I Want To Go On Living Even After My Death!

But I've Slammed The Door To My Inner Self; If He Ever Wants To Force The Lock Again, He'll Have To Use A Harder Crowbar!