This is my journal as a companied to my wife and kids in Narnia

We haven't been in Narnia for long, but I am writing in this journal because the creatures of Narnia think that I am ill. I can't tell them the truth, that I am the only one who knows this isn't real.<br><br>I live in a small village at the edge of a forest. We moved here family moved here so that our two children, Maggie and Tommy, could read the books left by the previous owner. I was also supposed to fix the house. <br><br>I am only in my early 30s, but I am very ill. I should be dead. I was in a lot of pain and I wanted to end my life. Three months ago I took my own life. I overdosed on pain medication, thinking that I would die in my sleep. <br><br>But I didn't.<br><br>However, my wife, Susan did. She found me dead in the bathroom after taking all the pills. But in trying to save me, she overdosed herself trying to save me and she died. But our children were saved and they moved here.<br><br>That is what I have to tell myself. I died, but my children are alive. They are safe. But that doesn't make it OK. Narnia is such a wonderful place. I look out at the forest, and see the beauty in it. I want to be there again, but I keep reminding myself that it isn't real. I am dead. My wife is dead. This is hell.<br><br>But the creatures of Narnia are so nice. The talking animals. The fauns and minotaurs. But they don't understand me. They think Narnia is the real world, and I am the crazy one. But I have to keep this live up for my children.<br><br>I just want to hold Susan again.