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I grew up in a different world to other people. I grew up in a world of imagination. Every child has one. It turns a cardboard box into a space rocket and a pillow base into a secret camp. These were the best years of my life. I lived in a world of fun and adventure. It was my own private neverland.

Then I grew up.

I was introduced to a world that consists of suffering and despair. Where people struggle every day to make ends meet for food, or to keep the roof above their heads. Where famine, drought and war raged over land, resources, ideals. The rose tinted vale covering my child-like eyes had gone. This wasn't a world where values such as courage and honour were kept. It was one where power and greed precidented over all. There were no trips to other planets, there were no sky adventures. There were no heroes.

Then I realised I didn't look at the world with my imagination, I looked at it for what it is. The woman who stands up to the man who beats her. The child that fights back against the bullies, regardless of size or strength. The man that runs into a burning house without regard for his own life. The father, that cures his son of nightmares. The mother who has two children and still finds time for them both. These are the heroes. These are the ones that refuse to back down, and not fade away.

This journal is dedicated to my writing. Writing that holds values that are not found in this world to the naked eye anymore. The values that are hidden away, but not forgotten by some. This journal is to the men and women, boys and girls, who dare to hope. To dream. To be free.

Welcome to my world. Just close your eyes.

Vale.

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