Dear Diary: It’s me, Robin.

The following is a fictional diary entry from the main character in Accounting for it All, Robin Whethers.

Look, I’m not normally one for writing, but I’m more nervous now than I was before my first shoot and I need some kind of outlet to plug that energy into if I’m gonna come out of this alive.

Diary, my book comes out in 67 days, assuming I’m doing the numbers right.

I suppose it’s not my book, but it is my story. And, well, I know I haven’t exactly shared that story with you, diary, but I’ll at least tell you this: the details aren’t always pretty. I’m not always pretty. I am—was—a trainwreck if I’m honest, and knowing that folks are gonna get to watch that train fly off the tracks before they comb through the crash debris has me fixing to derail the thing myself before the book even hits shelves.

Lord, what was I thinking when I agreed to this?

Not that I’m ashamed, mind you. I’m proud of where I came from, of where I’m headed—at least looking back. I’m not the only one to have journeyed through the land of getting filmed while scantily clad and what all else, but I might be the only porn-star-turned-accountant-turned-whatever-it-is-that-comes-next-for-me.

I suppose that’s why r. r. wanted to share my tale in the first place. It’s a one-of-a-kind, and that I survived my shenanigans at all is a miracle in itself. And don’t we celebrate miracles?

So maybe… I don’t know. Who am I to deny the world a peek into my life? I’ve never been shy on that front before. If my story’s gonna mean something to someone, to anyone, maybe that alone’s what makes it worth telling.

67 days, huh?

The way I see things now, diary, I reckon November can’t come soon enough.

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