24th January 2014
Friday - 10:54 p.m

Dear Diary,

Hello. It's me.
I am Elora Nadeau.
Completed 15 years of my existence on the planet today.

A teenager who has sea blue eyes and chestnut brown hair, fair skin with a few un-noticeable freckles around my nose and an average height of 5"7'.

Me and my family originally belong from Canada. Though, we live here in the US city of Philadelphia. It has a population of something around 1.5 million according to google. (Doesn't matter)

My mum is Diana Nadeau. She's a very busy woman. She works as a lawyer in a well known law firm. Elliot Nadeau is my dad. Yes, you guessed it right. The one and only, infamous property dealer of the city.

I have no siblings. I don't think my parents ever thought about any after me. As I said, they are really busy people.

I have an aunt too. She lives in Canada. She's my mother's elder sister. She is the sweetest and the most genuine person you could ever have in your life.

I don't actually intend to write my bio-data here. Still, a few basic introductions wouldn't bother.

It all looks picture perfect and so good. Isn't it? Perfect family. Well educated and rich parents. No siblings, no risk of receiving biased love from them. But....

Reality is always far from assumptions.

I admit I was born in a wealthy family.
But, I was never loved by anyone of them.
I can't deny that I have well-behaved and "standard" friends. But, I don't have that one genuine person who asks me if this is what I want.
I know I have an amazing room and an even amazing pillow to sleep on. But, I don't know how to prevent that pillow from drowning in my tears every night.
I have all the perfect people and customary friends who attend my parties and family banquets with etiquettes. But, I don't have that one companion whom you trust that he/she would be with you throughout your life.

I have it all but I don't actually have it all.

When I was 5, my teacher had asked me to invite my parents to the annual dance programme that was to held next day.
I had happily skidded over to my mom who was on the phone when I returned from my kindergarten. I tugged at her hand and asked her to come to the programme with dad. I still remember what she said as clear as day. "Off course sweety. We will be there."

I was happy the rest of the day thinking that my parents would see me dance. I was already imagining my dad cheering for me from the audience and the glow of pride in his eyes when he will see his daughter dance.

All my hopes were shattered when the programme had ended and my parents were still nowhere in sight. I was sniffing when my teacher came to me and said, "Don't cry dear. They must have gotten stuck in some urgent work."

Little me was easily convinced by that excuse. But when no one even came to pick me up that day, my heart was broken and I had to ask Miss Lily to drop me home instead. I cried the whole night when I came to know that they forgot about it.

It didn't end there. My hopes and heart kept shattering inch by inch as I grew up.

My parents never once bothered to wish me themselves on my birthday after I turned 8. They were never here.

They would call the housekeeper and ask him to pass me some expensive presents every year. They would return in the evening for a ball which is arranged for my birthday every year. Except for the customary toast, they didn't bother checking up on me for the rest of the evening. All their business associates and beneficiary investors were in the guest list. Including some of the ones whom I call "friends".

It's been the same for years.
It's my birthday today.
It will end in a few hours. It was not a happy birthday for me. It was the same, "Meet Mr.Williams Elora, he is a client of your dad."
"Here's my daughter Elora, Mr.Williams"

Is it me? Am I to be blamed for my misery? What did I do that was so terrible as they don't even ask me how I am? They don't ask me if I need someone to talk to. They sit with me on the breakfast table but never asked me about my day at the school. They never tried to enquire me about my studies.
Do I deserve this?
Is it all my fault?
Am I not deserving of receiving their parental love like every other child does at my age? Do I not deserve someone to talk to me without any motive for once?

I have many such unanswered questions in my mind. I want someone to share it with. I want someone who will understand what I want and will provide me with their care and love.

While I was in the library, I came across a book which was a journal of someone.
That gave me an idea to re-start writing my diary. My thoughts never felt this compressed before. I want them out now.

My life is not something worth to be written about. But....

When a person gets too immersed in their grief, they want an outlet at some point. That point is now for me.
I want my thoughts to be expressed now.
And since I don't have anyone, I think you could be my friend.
A genuine one at that.

It sounds so pathetic. A fit and healthy person needing a diary of a few pages to be his/her outlet of emotions.
And it's a shame to the humanity that non-abstract things are more capable of occupying their places in today's world.
No one could help themselves when they start loving solitude, when they start enjoying their loneliness.

I want you to be my outlet dear diary.

That's it for today.

I hope no one reads you and gets any insight upon my thoughts.

I trust you to keep it all a secret.
Between You and Me.

Yours Only,
Elora.

P.S - 'Solitude'