I have looked through these binoculars maybe hundreds of times and never seen what I just saw. It started with the sound. I could hear Charlie’s music in her headphones blasting through their plastic housing, and it was making me even more annoyed with her. On top of that, I kept hearing this repetitive sound outside the car. I just wanted to hide my brain from the world, but something about the sound outside the car was intriguing.

I rolled down my window and poked my head out. Nothing was obvious. As soon as I sat back down in my seat, the sound started up again outside. It was a consistent high, low sound. I should’ve known from all of the times that you took me birding in the backyard.

It took me longer than it probably should have to remember that I had your binoculars with me. I started scanning the tree line and found some activity in the big tree by the driveway. You know, the one I fell out of? After I got the binoculars focused on the commotion up in the tree, my mouth dropped open.

The leader bird was dressed up like a military commander, and two little birds were following its lead. They were out on a morning march, it seemed like. The whole scene reminded me of when you used to take Charlie and me on summer morning walks. We would have followed you into battle. ❤️

Today marks a very important discovery. I’d tell you all about the mundanity that started my day - waking, breakfasting, dressing - but in the years to come, will people really be reading my journals and want to know whether I had eggs or bacon?

Of course not! So I won’t waste any more ink or paper.

I think I have broken gravity.

You’ll note I’ve written THINK and that’s because this is extremely uncharted territory. Even the scientists who pioneered the first blimp charters play by the rules of gravity.

So when a ballerina literally floats into your life, laughing in the face of the force that Newton got bonked on the head by, you’re a ship that’s suddenly unmoored.

It’s taken weeks - three and a half, to be exact - for the aforementioned ballerina to agree to let me take a sample of his blood. And another week - eight days, if we’re being precise - for me to crack it. Literally.

But don’t assume I’m foolish. I’m not about to divulge the science of it here. I keep all my notes in a secure location. You won’t find any clues to breaking gravity within these pages.

Even now, I’ll admit, there are still parts of the process that allude me. Especially the reversal. Things in my lab are going up … but they’re not coming back down. But I’m not the kind of girl that’s easily deterred.

I’ve already broken gravity. How hard can it be to fix it?

Dear diary, I'm quite upset today. I don't understand why adults lie to us, children? Do they think we are stupid? Just as I do every year, this morning at breakfast I started writing my letter to Santa Claus. I always like to be early because I know - well, knew - how busy it must be around Christmas. Mom wasn't in a great mood, she had burned our toasts and was running out of time to go to work. Maybe that's why, when I asked for help with the word "Lapland" (I thought it was Lap Land...) she just dismissed me with this cruel "Carol, you are now too old to believe in Santa. Santa doesn't exist." I stopped writing to stare at her while my chin dropped. She cupped her hands... "I'm sorry, Carol..." she mumbled. "What do you mean, mom?" "I mean that all the presents you've been getting are from dad and I." she replied, blushing. I couldn't believe this. If that was the case, how come none of my friends had ever shared it with me? "You are eight now, Carol. It's time to know the truth." I went to school in absolute silence, feeling the weight of carrying a big secret. "Guess what I found just now, Nora!" I rushed to my best friend as soon as I saw her. "What?" "Santa doesn't exist!" I let out, opening my eyes wide, expecting her to be as shocked as I had been. But Nora just shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, I know. I found out last year." "Really? Why didn't you tell me?" "I thought you'd be as sad as I was and didn't want to disappoint you." Oh dear diary... So much for my big revelation. At lunch time when I spoke to the other kids, they all laughed at me. They already knew, some actually never really believed in Santa. I felt such a fool. :-( But the worst was feeling that I had been lied to. Why do adults tell children about Santa when they know he doesn't exist? Your friend, Carol

I look up outside my bedroom window and I see lots of dots sparkling in the dark sky.

I wonder what they are and Daddy said they’re called stars, each of them as big as or maybe even bigger than the sun.

Daddy is silly because the sun is not that big.

It only looks about the size of a 10 cent coin in the sky. And the stars are even smaller, they look about the size of the holes in Mummy’s watering can I use to give water to the herbs we grow on our veranda.

Oh I get it, those are holes that are made to connect between day and night. Stars are little holes in the night sky that lets a little bit of sunlight shine through at night time.

( Written by mum on behalf of Duncan. Age 5)

Dear diary I think I just discovered something. I am pretty sure I am the first to know about this.

Oh my gosh! Good thing my parents don’t know. I think they would kill my brother if they find out.

I pray that Tyler doesn’t get mad at me for knowing his secret. I don’t think he realized he left this in my room. It must’ve fallen out of his backpack. When he was helping me with my schoolwork.

I can not Believe it! My older brother has been vaping. I hear the door open and slam shut. Oh no! Tyler is home.

What do I do with this vaping thing? Should I hide it? Or leave it where it was? And just pretend I never saw it? Or maybe I should just come to him clean. And tell him the truth. And pray he will understand. Well whatever I decide I need to do it fast. Before he comes knocking at my door. Until next time. My trusty diary.

December 28th, 1845

It has been about 2 weeks since I departed Fort Bridger. I would never expect myself to end up in a situation like this, even when that blizzard hit. Soon I hope I find William, after the instructions I gave him if I ever got lost when I left. Now, I must focus on what really troubles me.

Ever since that old man Mr. Rogues took me into his home I knew he was strange, but the warmth of his trading post was enough to keep my mind of off of it. Now that state of mind has passed now that I’ve been stuck with him long enough. He’s told me so many stories about his family, his family, business, and isolation within this icy hell buried in the mountains. I can’t hold in any longer of what I now know.

From what I know about his family is quite tragic. Years ago, he began with his family the journey of the Oregon Trail to find purpose in Oregon City. Unfortunately they never made it passed Wyoming as his family died of cholera. As a burden for his life, he had to bury them and move on - he had to at this point, especially for his family - there was no turning back. Luckily he was able to find shelter, the very trading post I reside within now.

When he arrived there, it was already occupied. The trader heard his story and took him in. They resided together for a couple of months until the trader went to go hunting. He told Mr. Rogues to take care of the place while he was gone but he never came back. Mr. Rogues assumed he was mauled by a bear or something of that matter. Eventually he decided to handle the trading post on his own. He did apparently well as a trader. One day he was visited by some Cheyenne Indians who traded with him a boldly decorated carpet in return for some furs. Like any day of business, they made their transaction, and the Cheyenne departed.

Mr. Rogues has been staying here long enough to make any man go insane. Besides the occasional visits, there has never been a man so isolated, so secluded, so contained that you may as well fall victim by the blizzards. Yet he remains, not as a trader but as a slave, a property, owned by the mountains, who provide him with no other choice of freedom. The slavery of this man has left him mentally deteriorated, at least from what he has been telling me from the stories of his dreams. Every night he sees these shadows, with pale eyes, that surround him and drench him in their darkness. I thought of this as it was a figment of his imagination, at least that’s what I thought until I started seeing these same black shadows in my dreams as well. I see them, yet they do do not drench me. They stand away from me, statically hovering over the Cheyenne carpet. They would do this night over night until last night. Last night, they were hovering in the same position, not over the carpet, but over a key. Thus, I was prompted to begin an investigation.

Earlier today, Mr. Rogues went out hunting. This is when I looked for the key, almost instinctively. I looked all over the trading post, with caution, as I knew I couldn’t around any suspicion by Mr. Rogues. I couldn’t find anything. But then I checked the shed. I looked all over the shed. Still no key. On my way out however I seemed to have stepped over a weak floorboard. I teared it open. Alas, the key was there! With Mr. Rogues still in mind I kept the key exactly where it was with the floorboard placed exactly where it was before. I hurried back to the trading post before he came back, in fact he’s still out as I write this. The dreams told me something, and out of curiosity I stood over the carpet. I felt something - a hollowness - the same hollowness from when I stepped over the floorboard from where the key was hidden.

Unlike any other visitor that Mr. Rogues received I believe I have found something - something that he is hiding. I cannot bear to look now, God forbid I am caught right as Mr. Rogues walks through the door. I must wait until tonight - late.

Alas, I begin to hear footsteps outside, it must be him.

There’s this feeling of joy . It embraces me so tightly it feels like I might suffocate but I can’t bring myself to pull away . If I could burry myself deeper into it I would but I’m already fully submerged and it’s not enough . I yearn for more .There’s a feeling of warmth , It runs through my veins . It warms my center and extends to every nerve I have within . My stomach feels unsettled at the thought of it . I can’t help but feel my lips begin to curve into a smile . A smile like no other . A smile that beckons every bone in my body to smile with it . I wonder if anyone else has ever felt like this . I wish that everyone could feel like this . Like beautiful fireworks dancing with the nights stars . I can feel like light shelter me from every ounce of darkness . I am safe .I am protected by the strongest protector there is . This feeling is a feeling I hope I’ll never have to let go . I will cling to it with every bit of will my body has until there is none .
This feeling … I will call it love .

Dear Diary,

My tasty achy pains Are rushing up to the surface My hopeless drainings Are bouncing around my core My stirring thoughts Only I can understand them You calm me so, hold me again

But not right now. Not while I’m mad darling Only when I’m old and perfect again Not a new fear. Not another one. Can’t live with all this shivering, I say Can’t live with all these baddy-bad thoughts This loneliness is mine. Only I can kiss it’s Hot head. Warm and supple each morning. No room for you. Sorry

I love you, But I don’t know if I’m still in love with you.” “The is my time for me to be selfish.” “Y’all just don’t want me to be happy.” You always liked watching fires You told me; the colors made everything brighter That when the sparks crackled you got goosebumps Chills would rush through your body & fill your lungs with ambition The smell of things burning pleased you Made you feel Powerful & fulfilled Just like a fire You loved to destroy everything around you Especially me You would light every emotion on fire Then Isolate flames so that I could burn out alone Then an “I Love You” would slither off your tongue Slip through every inch of my body to Make my skin crawl you would crawl through my mind Destroying my insanity Manipulate our conversations by telling me… “Why are you giving up?” “Yes, I cheated for 3 years, but what about the years before that?” “I know I cheated, but…..” “Everybody thinks I’m this big cheater ” “That’s not what happened, he is just my friend.” “Maybe I should kill myself.” “He knew how much I loved you” Every sentence you said to started with “because I love you” As if it was ever love I was just a player in your game; like how often can you push & how much can you prick till I bleed out & become dry You were a master manipulator You & your side nigga Puppeteering words that pulled and yanked parts of me That I didn’t know existed You controlled so much of me… I actually started to believe that you truly loved me That maybe I could’ve changed something maybe the blame for your actions was mine for the taking But this love… your love was gaslighting The constant mind manipulating was slowly destroying every part of me Being with you was like being stuck in a fire You sucked up all the oxygen So that I was unable to breathe used me to fill the lonely void of your life, to make yourself look better Like maybe you were worth something So you took my worth & made it your own Traded in my heart for your pride My mind for your strength My tears for blood Baby Instead of being in love We were in gaslighting Until you finally put out the flame.

Today is the day! Today is the day my life changes forever!! It finally happened. When I tell the world what I discovered today!! No longer will I be looked over or unappreciated. No more. Today is the day that my life changes!!

-A Success