Dear Journal,

My name is Gideon Kane and I am twenty three years of age. I fear that I can tell you nothing beyond that for I do not know myself. A strange thing happened to me this morning, dear journal. I can't seem to remember anything past this morning. I don't think it is a common habit for people to pick up, this forgetfulness, but oh how embarrassing it would be to be the very first! I am not alone though, thankfully. I awoke in the home of a kindly old woman. She doesn't speak much. I assume it is from her age. She is missing quite a few teeth and her skin sags like clothes many sizes too large. She is tragically old but very sweet. She doesn't answer any of my questions but she has taken wonderful care of me so far. You were a gift from her. She said nothing when she presented you but I thanked her none the less. I must say you're a very beautiful journal. I wonder if the clean smell of your leather binding will fade away. I hope not.

I have a favor to ask of you, my dear journal. Please do not think of me as demanding or needy, I simply wish to know. Would you be so kind as to help me find myself? It is indeed quite the thing to ask! Surely I must have lost a lot and finding it all may be difficult. I ask you as a friend. You are a bearer of thoughts and dreams that stay on paper. Perhaps I will find myself within your pages if you would be so kind to allow me. I know it can be difficult to bear the mind of another. I desperately wish to know. Not only who I am but where I am.

The old woman is very senile in her decay and cannot bring herself to tell me what country this is. I can see a small village from the eastern window but I dare not venture there just yet. I don't even know the year or month, dear journal! Perhaps the oddest fact about this whole situation is that I know of countries and time and reading and writing. That means that I had to exist before now to learn all these things. People don't just wake up into the world at twenty three years of age, do they? That I'm actually not too sure of.

Everyone must have a mother and father, yes? Where are mine? Did I lose them too? I must have been a child at one point. I must have grown up and learned about the world. I am just lost. I need your help because you may be the only one who could help me. Also please forgive me for my writing errors and scribbles. I hope they do not hurt you. I cannot help my writing or my mistakes for they are a part of me and I must not spare anything from your pages. If other people feel the need to read you, let them! I have nothing to hide. A lost man doesn't want to hide. He wants to be found.

Perhaps when I find the courage to leave I should show you to everyone. That way perhaps someone will recognize me in some way. Do not fear. Even if I find myself I will not abandon you. We are one now. You hold my mind and perhaps someday, my soul!

Before I set down my pen for the day I think I should decide on how to date my entries. I have no idea what day or month it is now. Perhaps I should just count the sunrises and sunsets and look to the trees to see what season it is. It is very cold now and the trees are still in slumber. I think winter is a good place to start a year. The cold and the dark unknown that separates the birth of spring and the death of autumn. Yes. This is indeed a good time to begin.

Your new friend,

Gideon Kane.