Novel & Cerita Anonymous Diaries

“I'm so sorry you had to go through this. I had no idea losing my phone would cause something like this. How did the person even get access to all these? My diary was locked and—” “Diary?” Annabel interrupted him. Carson sighed and nodded. Annabel pulled away from the hug and looked at him. “It's an online diary where I write whatever happens to me. Remember when I lied to Roland that we were engaged, I stated it in the diary that he stole you away from me, and I was going to tell him we were engaged, and you were my fiancée. Maybe the person must have seen it and used it to cause a commotion, but my question is, how did the person unlock my phone and what took him or her there?” He question

I think that is how someone like Adrian wins—he finds people whose shame is heavier than their pride and he pushes. I slid the screenshots of the two anonymous texts from my phone—Don’t get involved. and Seriously. Don’t.—out of the printer tray (the machine complained, as if unused to being called into moral emergencies) and stapled them to the second page. The paper felt heavier in my hand, weighted with proof. I wrote:

I don't care about their judgements and what anyone thinks the world could perish for all I care. I slipped my flip flops and stretched my tired limbs. I had the best sleep in months. Who wouldn't? My plans are close to actualization. I walked to my drawer and picked my sacred diary, diary of sins and ran my fingers on the surface before spreading the first page and his name popped up. "ADRIAN CUBAN." In bold letters and a hot tear rolled down my left cheek.

The assistant paused before replying, "Mr. Norman says if you want a divorce, you should come find him yourself. He's not falling for your dramatic tricks." I let out a laugh. "He actually told you to say that?" "Yes, he did." I sighed. "Where is he?" "Mr. Norman is celebrating Ms. Bowen's birthday tonight. If you want the location, you'll need to post an apology on your social media first—" "Dream on," I snapped before hanging up. Then I scrolled through my contacts before tapping on Vincent Dickinson's name. He was the one who had called out Madison publicly. Maybe he was still a decent guy.

I understood what I did was stupid, but at that moment I just didn't care. “I am been honest with you about everything. I have an online friend I talk to. It's the least I can do to have some sort of normal life. She suggested we meet that day. She was the one I was meeting at the Diner”, I explained. I didn't have any excuses, it was up to him to believe me or not. “Your phone is constantly hacked, I would already have known about the online Friend if she or he existed” I let out a sign

PERFECT COVER It was lunch break, I spotted Flora and Brian were seriously conversing at our spot in the Cafeteria. Tyler had come up with a plan concerning the whole Anonymous message thing.... I was going to ask Brian for help but I was not going to reveal anything, my sexuality or the main issue. I didn't want to lose my friends or get exposed. My perfect Image had to stay unstained. "Hi, guys." Both looked up almost at the same time.

What is written inside it? She did not sleep. She sat at her small desk with her laptop open and the cursor blinking in an empty search bar and thought about where you even begin when what you are looking for has no name and no shape and the only person who knows anything about it is a girl who tried to kill you four hours ago. She typed: dark journal occult. Deleted it. Typed: ancient journals with hidden locations. Deleted that too. She pushed back from the desk and pressed her palms flat on her knees and stared at the ceiling.

LESLIE’S JOURNAL ENTRIES 001 ******* Dear Diary, Scratch that. Dear Journal? Well, you’re sort of pink, handmade and gotten from the roadside stall of a little girl working on some class project so maybe you're really a diary. However, I am going to pretend this is a journal and this is the beginning of me journaling my new life in a new city. I read somewhere online that it’s a therapeutic practice. For me, it’s an escape. The only way I can express myself in a world where I feel more alone than I have ever been.

I should have add MANWHORE into my blog post! Dang it!

Nikon: After I was done with the whole day’s work, I finally had some “me time.” Sitting in my armchair and looking outside the window, I poured myself a shot of vodka. I deserve some peace. But my choice of comfort and peace meant reading or getting information on my enemies. In my hand was a small, vintage-style, red-covered diary. It had slipped out of the bags when the maids were packing them. I opened the diary and read the first sentence: “Today was a weird day. Uncle Ron made me take an extra shift even after I had returned from transferring blood.”