Opening Log: Elissa's Diary. Selecting archives...selecting file 0001-B, "Pre-Reaper War." User authorization required.
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Welcome back, Commander Shepard.
Year: 2185
Dear Diary,
Well, after a rather grueling week, I finally made it into the N7 program. It only took a week of some of the worst conditions I'd ever seen, but I'll manage. I even got a compliment for having "the most efficient use of salvage." Yeah, well, that's what happens when your gun jams after a sandstorm. The "use of salvage" helped me clean my gun. It also was an excuse not to think, at least at first. Being on the ground makes me nervous. I prefer the open stars of space and a ship of solid friends.
My first couple of days of my week long trail was the worst. It was far more trying than even when I was down to nutrient paste by day 7. Azuke used to haunt me, and being ground side made it worse. My dreams were in black and white sometimes. The Alliance sent me into a head shrinker right after Azuke, for a full psych evaluation. It was revealed that, with time and some help, I'll be okay. When I was recommended for the N7 program, I threw myself into it. I hoped it would help me face my demons. Turns out, it did but not in the way I expected. As hours turned to days, I first felt a sense of overwhelming dread. No logic, just fear. Any moment, the ground could shake and the nightmare could be reality again.
But I refused to painc. In the silence and isolation, I came to terms with how I felt, and who I was as a result. I began to make my peace, looking up at that foreign sky.
I need to keep that peace with me. It's what steadies me when physical strength fails. The N7 final test didn't break me. Which is good; I've come too far to blow it now. My mom didn't raise me to be weak-willed.
Speaking of which, let's see...30 missed messages from Hannah Shepard?!? Figures. I love my mom, but she's been so protective since Dad has been gone.
What the...some of those start going back to last week? Mom, you knew I was in training!
Be back later, diary. I expect a lot of "I was so worried, young lady," mixed with a lot of "I'm proud of you's," in my near future. Mom could never leave a short message.