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Daniel's Journal.

Daniel's Journal.

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Published by shutterbug99
Daniel's Journal by Lauren Kate. Uploaded with permission from publisher.
Daniel's Journal by Lauren Kate. Uploaded with permission from publisher.

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Published by: shutterbug99 on Jun 08, 2011
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07/21/2014

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1
3: Daniel’s Journal
Golden, British ColumbiaMarch 21, 1992 Next time, I will have to give her up.In this life we’re already too far along. Our course is set. Our old disaster loomsahead. My pen quakes as I write these words:I can’t save her.It has been one month since she found me at the bookstore. One month since sheintroduced herself—this time she goes by Lucy, which is so quaint it is beyond sweet—  blushing as she tucked her hair behind her ear before she shook my hand. One month of taking that hand in mine each afternoon when she returns home from school.I have cherished every inch of her. I have savored every pore of her soft skin andfilled up too many sketchbooks with her hypnotizing eyes. Nothing is more bittersweetthan this month of euphoria. It’s the same with each life’s love.I’m a fool to savor it. Especially with the end so near.Ages ago, Gabbe told me not to write this book. And there’s a long list of reasonswhy she’s right. I’ve been hunted for the things I wrote. Tried for heresy. I’ve gonemortal generations with a price on my head. Of course, right now the only reason thatmatters to me is this:If I had never written The Watchers: Myth in Medieval Europe, Lucinda wouldn’thave stumbled across me restocking the shelves at the university library where her sister 
 
attends college. She never would have invited me to walk across the campus to meet Veraafter class, never worked up the courage in those ten minutes to give me her phonenumber on the back of a drugstore receipt. We never would have ended up at her parents’house later that night. Never walked through the drifts of snow on the path behind their cabin, talking for hours, laughing as if we’d known each other for centuries.We would never have fallen in love.And she wouldn’t be living her last days. No. Even here, in these private pages, why do I continue to delude myself?The truth?Lucinda would have found me regardless of my stupid book. Just like she alwaysdoes. She would have tracked me down and followed me and lowered her defenses with arapidity she never understands.
She
would still have fallen in love. For the thousandth andthe first time in her life.And why not? It’s not torture for her . . . until the end.It means it’s up to me to make the change.Because, as Heaven is my witness, I can’t go on like this. The agony of one moreloss will overwhelm me. Drive me mad. Having to watch her walk once more into the blaze of knowing— I can’t.Let these pages serve as a record: If it takes seventeen years to purge her from mysoul—and I know it will—I’ll do it. The addiction
will 
fade away. The pain of withdrawal
has
to ease.
Copyright © 2010 Tinderbox and Lauren Kate.
2
 
Is it even possible? That someday love will loosen its grip on me? Until she’sonly a memory, not a drug I have to have? It’s too hard to imagine, and it’s the onlyoption I have left.If I can do that for her, Lucinda will live a long and healthy life. She’ll dosomething she’s never done before: She’ll die old. She will love and blossom and findhappiness. All these things she’s never known before. All without me.It’s too late now, but it won’t always be. I have already begun the preparations for our next encounter seventeen years down the road.How to save her. How to pull away.Yesterday, I went to a meeting.There was a flyer on the bus stop at the corner of Grand and Calgary:
TwelveSteps to Overcoming Your Addiction.
I was strung out and jittery after five hours of notseeing her.
 Five hours
. It was all I could do to wait for her to get home from school so Icould take her in my arms and— Hold back. Because I always have to hold myself back. The moments when Ihaven’t have been the moments when she died. As soon as I kissed her, as soon as I didwhat I felt I was
made
to do, she was taken away from me.Love. Vanishing. Into thin air.I know all of this
 so well,
but it has never gotten easier to control.So I memorized the address on the flyer. I got on the bus and I traveled somedistance and I got off. I walked into the dim, low-ceilinged room in the annex of achurch. I sat on a hard folding chair in a small circle of grim-faced strangers. When it was
Copyright © 2010 Tinderbox and Lauren Kate.
3

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