The following posts you will read are digital keepsakes from my journals back in the day. It's hard to keep them in pristine condition, so I've decided to document everything that's still legible inside of them.. Most pages consist of my angst ridden teenage ramblings, but that's not the man I am anymore. This account was made when I was nineteen years old (as was my email that you'll find past this point), I don't have time in my day to make a newer electronic mailing address.
My name is Collin Winthorp, at the time of writing this entries you are about to read beyond this post, I was 21 years old, and had freshly graduated from The École nationale de police du Québec (for those who do not speak French, it simply translates to "(The) Québec National Police Academy") about two years prior. I was celebrating the second anniversary of said graduation with a few buddies of mine, the typical celebration you'd expect out of people my age. Popping popcorn, maybe a few drinks involved, doing stupid things you'd say you "won't regret" but wake up shuddering in a cold sweat by dawn.. That kind of thing.
Most of these entries were about my family life, past the slang I feel embarrassed with even reading to myself while typing these out, that is. But if they weren't about my entire family, or about the goings-on of a young man, they were always about my younger sisters. I still keep in contact with Caroline (in fact, I celebrated her 24th birthday with her back in February), but it's been 17 years on the dot since I've last seen my other sister, Chloe. I was too busy to even notice her in my youth, but with every letter signed off with her name that I was too preoccupied with, they all haunt me to this day.
I can't help but think about her, where she could be, if she's even here anymore. The men they sent to search for her came up with nothing, our parents came up with nothing. All they knew was she was gone, the only trace of her left now in that home was her hair strewn on a bloody window. I don't want to believe the worst, I want to believe she's still out there and able to walk the world (not sitting in a hole in a desolate place, at least). Her birthday's coming up in a few months, turning 33 this year. I can only hope she'll finally write another letter after a decade and then some.
This has been the introduction page to these immortalized pages, if you have any idea where she could be, please email me at coolcollie1969@aol.com
