Hey, I'm Lucy Knight from an imaginary town in a story my class wrote many years ago. I am a barmaid and I live with my husband Harry in a little house.
I am beautiful but I don't flaunt it; in fact I barely notice it. Blonde haired, blue eyed, absolutely perfect.
And then there's me.
I'm finding it very difficult to write at the moment and all that really comes out of me is pain, I'm sorry about that. I would love to be cheerful because there is nothing really wrong with me, yet every time I look at the blank screen I just want to throw everything on it which is on my mind.
From memory, I think that everything I have written is either exact to my life or very close - or alternately, based on something in my head and therefore possibly completely fictional except true in my head.. if that makes any sense?
I miss writing.
I love writing.
I miss everyone here.
I love everyone here.
Happy protagonizing, happy Christmas. I love you.
