A/N. This is just the prologue. It will start with just a series of letters from the mysterious Willow that the Doctor will be receiving. This story is still in the planning stages, so enjoy what I have so far. =D

Dear friend,

I hope you don't mind my letters, honestly I didn't want to do this at first either. My therapist said it would help with my emotional problems. He said, and I quote, "Since you aren't able to talk to me, perhaps you might be able to express your emotions through words like a diary."

I think that's stupid. I don't talk to him because he doesn't understand. It's nothing personal. You seem to understand though, although it is nearly impossible for you to receive these letters because I don't put an address on the letters (and I don't know if you're even real).

Anyways, please feel free to completely disregard these letters, I know you are a very busy man, and I don't want to take time out of your busy day just to read these stupid letters from a stranger that has no impact on your life whatsoever. You can just throws these letters away if you ever even get them. I won't be offended. I still like to think you're out there reading these though.

I bet you are wondering (if you can wonder) who I am, and why I am acting as if I know you. Well, I kind of do. See, I have these dreams. Like most dreams, the details are a bit fuzzy, like, I always lose your name, but I remember what you look like, and how you sound. You ramble a lot, a constant spewing of nonsense, long words that I don't understand. Sometimes I ask you what you mean, and you willingly explain it to me in an even faster pace, until you stop at my giving you what we call, 'The Look'. Then you slow down, and you make sure that I understand every word, and you never make me feel dumb, or less than for not understanding.

I've dreamt of you for a long time, since I was 4. My earliest memory is me in kindergarten when I was doodling a crude drawing of your special blue box. If it is important to you, I'm 20 years old. I'm not going to give much more personal information, but it may slip through, I tend to babble a lot, I think I got that from you.

Don't try to find out who I am or anything, I mean I can't really stop you, but I think it may be easier if we never meet (I'm just going to write to you like you're a real person. You are too me, at least). Well you can call me Willow. That's not my name though. I feel I should be completely honest with you, especially since you're just a fragment of my wild imagination, and what's the use in lying to myself?

Willow is my middle name though, so I'm technically not lying. I don't even know your name though, I always forget by the time I woke up. That's okay. I'll just call you friend. Is that alright? I hope it is. Well I have to go to therapy now, so goodbye friend. I like that. Friend. It's nice to say.

Your friend (if you want),

Willow.