White Unlined Pages.
her memory.

She was like the moon - part of her was always hidden away.
- Dia Reeves, Bleeding Violent

Upon the pages her words sit, written with a thin pen as it pressed itself against the sheets. Each white leaf is unlined, elegant, delicate letters occupying each and every page. Incomplete sentences, poems, paragraphs, single words. They all found their place among each and every folio the book bounded. The only element missing were eyes. Eyes that would scour page after page of illusions b throughout the whole text itself. 

*Selected passages of Jiyeon's Journal - 
the journal content as a whole is forbidden to read
Go piece by piece,
but with no particular order, I am afraid.
 

*Passage Number 568.

A young girl with an imagination, 
one that soars so far
it consumes her completely.
Stuck in her daydream, 
she doesn't wish to be found. 
Lost eyes staring at nothing.
In another world. 

Here she sits, 
living life through dreams. 
Escaping from cruel reality
that is called her life. 
Her fantasy is heaven, 
guiding her, leading her...
Distracting her. 

Until she wakes up.
Truth being shown
that her fantasy is not real.
Proving to her
that she is indeed
deranged

Yet--
she still wishes to return
and never leave.
After all,
she enjoys being
erratic.
 

---
 

*Passage Number 1.

For as long as I have remembered,
I have dreamed of you. 
My friend. 
My only friend. 
My everything. 
You mean the world to me. 
 

---
 

*Passage Number 5.

Are you familiar with the words, "Jealousy is Amor's sister, just like Lucifer is a brother of the angels."? That's how I feel about us. No matter how innocent I appear to be, you were always the pure one. I always disoriented myself with such unacceptable thoughts while you were always looking out for me. When will you wake up and realize this? You are the favorable of us two. 
 

---
 

*Passage Number 23.

Lost. Broken. Hurting.
But with you? 
Found. Mended. Comforted. 
 

---
 

*Passage Number 149.

Fade from my mind you cruel words. You stick to me as if you're glue that is un-washable. You weigh me down to the point where I am close to suffocating. Somehow you do not press hard enough to end my life. The Darkness that clouds over me, taking over my whole self, feasts upon my suffering. Its tongue laps at my wounds as if they are sweet candy that is addictive. Darkness absorbs whatever energy that has somehow stored inside me, leaving me as if I were a worn rag doll whose owner left her behind. 

Neglected. 

Darkness whispers that in my ear. It isolates me. Is that what I am? Even though I do not present the wet tears, I am tearful on the inside. Many do not look past what they see with their eyes. I am merely a body of a person that is pleasing to the eye. They do not dare to touch. Their eyes simply search my whole self. Those individuals do not try to appear inconspicuous. Darkness tells me they do not love me. They only lust. 

I am eye-candy to them.

The negative thoughts send the words "doll soul" into my mind. I am gorgeous beyond compare, yet I do not have a soul. My personality is absent. I am a vacant, attractive body. 

You are meaningless. 
It whispers in my ear. 
I have to come to believe such a fact. 
 

---
 

*Passage Number 11. 

My father had a way with his hands. No, I'm not referring to ion. He enjoyed to hit. Physical, painful hits against soft skin released his anger. It became a sudden habit. 

Daddy. 
I thought we were best friends?

Until Mr. Bottle found you. 

You both began to get well acquainted with each other. Mr. Bottle was not very fond of mother and I. In an act to impress your new friend, you pleased him with your abusive actions. 

I created my own world then. 
Daddy couldn't find me there. 
Mr. Bottle couldn't find me there. 
Mommy couldn't even find me there. 
I was the only one who let people in. 
I still am the only one who lets people in. 

Mommy and I ran away one late night. "Daddy is no longer daddy." She had warned me. "You do not know him anymore." 
She was right. 

My daddy was my best friend. 
He was the one who spun me around in the living room, 
listening to lyric-less music. 
It was his favorite kind. 
As well as mine. 
Because you could make up your own story that way. 

Daddy didn't know a Mr. Bottle. 
He smiled and spoiled me. 
I was his little girl. I was his one and only. 
He was my best friend. 

Now, I hardly recognized Daddy. Someone else had possessed his soul. My Daddy would never harm me. He would never cause ache in my small, delicate heart. 

"This is our new beginning." Mommy whispered as we sat in the noisy train. "You do not have to remember anything up until now." I kept that piece of advice in mind and fell asleep. 

That was when I escaped to my world
It being perfect in every way. 
Why?
Daddy was there. 
Real Daddy.
The one from my early memory.
He was there.
With me. 
Forever. 
Never moving. 
Never changing. 

Never making me cry. 
 

---
 

*Passage Number 279.

Help me. I'm trapped. I cannot find my path out of this maze called my imagination. I'm sorry I can't seem to control it. Images flash in my mind, giving me numerous ideas. Within moments I am engrossed in dream-like thoughts. They overtake me, distracting me to where I lose the time. Then, finally, as I