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Dear Diary,

 

 

I sometimes wonder if this so called happiness is actually a curse.

 

Every day is the same. As I look upon my husband and the beautiful home we've made together, all I'm left with  is an unsatisfying feeling of: what now?

 

My days consist of keeping things in order, making sure he's happy, keeping up appearances...

But who am I when all I am is his designated wife?

 

 

What lies beyond the woods that surround this perfect prison called home?

 

I'm yet to find out and I'm starting to wonder if I ever will...

 

Yours truly,

 

o

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