This diary belongs to Harper Lia Baldwin.
If you are reading this, one of two things is true. Either I gave it to you, which means I trust you more than I trust most people who share my last name.
Or I tossed it and you found it, and you should probably stop reading now, though I understand if you don't. I wouldn't either. I suppose you're just extremely nosey.
I want to say this is the truth. I think it mostly is. But I've learned that the truth depends a great deal on who's asking, and what they already believe about you before you open your mouth.
This is just the part where I get to decide too.
Start wherever you want. I did.
However, this is not a light story. It involves psychiatric hospitalisations, death, family cruelty, and the particular damage of being loved conditionally.
If any of that is too close to home right now, it's alright to put this down. It'll still be here when you're ready.
I waited a long time to tell it, you can wait too.
YOU ARE READING
Living in Ludicrous
General FictionIn the prestigious town of Pelford Heights, the Baldwin Family are pretty untouchable. Old money, immaculate estates, respected schools, and a legacy built on reputation and status. They are the kind of family people admire from a distance. The kin...
