Contoh Diary Remaja Novels & Stories

“Diary. . . “ “I’ve met a girl today. She’s very noisy and weird. Mom told me she and I can be friends, but I nah. I don’t need friends. I am contented of what I have right now. Friends can stab our back smoothly, leaving us scars. I told her to stop following me, but she wouldn’t listen. She keeps on telling me things I don’t care about. The things she likes, the color white as her favorite color, April eleven as her birthday. . . her favorite subject at school and her name. . . Avery. ” I was left dumbfounded. I almost dropped the notebook I was holding, already shaking and feeling too much headache. They were flashes of memories on my mind, too. I.. . I know this diary. . . this is not th

MAYALINA May 14th 2018 I pick up the large sack of rubbish from the bar, fling it over my shoulder and wobble my weak butt to the back entrance where the large skip bins are. I walk through the halls and look into the rooms as I pass them by. All the doors are open except the room that used to be mine. Things have been really slow on our side of the wing lately. It's like we've all dispersed for our own painful reasons.

A broken laugh escapes me, twisting into a sob before I can stop it. With shaking hands, I open it. The page is clean. Untouched. Like today was supposed to be. I pick up the pen. Even that hurts. Still, I force it. Dear diary, today was my eighteenth birthday. The words look wrong. Like they belong to someone else. A tear drops onto the page, smearing the ink. My chest tightens. I can’t breathe. I don’t deserve to live. The memories crash into me all at once—too fast, too much.

It was my medical and emotional diary — an idea Isa had when I was a child. "Write everything down, Giu. Even the fears. That way they don't weigh so much inside here." Today I wrote: "10:48 PM – I'm okay. A little tired, but happy with the day. My heart raced when Noah pulled out the chair for me in the auditorium. Idiot. But it was cute. My health? Normal. Didn't feel anything different. Maybe just missing home. Reminder: call Dad tomorrow." I closed the notebook and placed it on the nightstand.

But the moment she lifted the diary’s cover and saw the elegant, looping script, her own script, from years ago, a peculiar heat bloomed in her chest. She settled on the floor, a beam of afternoon sun cutting through the dusty air, illuminating the first page. “Entry One: A confession. I dream of hands that are not my own. Not gentle, but claiming. I dream of being known in the dark, completely, shamelessly.” Ophelia’s breath hitched. She remembered this. She’d written it during a sweltering summer, trapped in a life that felt too small, her body a quiet, yearning vessel. She read on, her own voice from the past whispering in her mind.

But, The ones above were harder to reach, forcing me to stretch, my fingers roaming blindly across the upper shelves. Suddenly, something solid brushed against my fingertips. Frowning, I pulled it free. It fell to the floor with a soft thud. A black diary falls right at my feet. Frowning, I picked it up out of curiosity. Its leather cover was worn, its pages yellowed with age. My heart skipped as I picked it up, and curiously opened to the first page... A date stared back at me— it was 27th August, 2005. “A twenty year old diary in the bathroom cabinet? What the hell?”

I take a look at the contents of the box. Inside are diaries. At least ten of them, all labeled with her initials. S.R. My hands shake as I pick up the one on top. When I open it, dust flies off the pages like trapped breath being released. And then I read, even when my fingers trembled. Even when the pages felt like they were burning. The diary began innocently. April 7 “Mama braided my hair today. She says it makes me look like a princess. Papa didn’t come home last night…”

Dear Diary, I’ve decided to keep a book recording all my days here at High Hill, should make pleasant reading in the future! Well, let’s start with the basics. I’m Gabriel; surname’s irrelevant as I’d rather not link myself to my parents. I’m 15; average height, wavy mousey brown hair, hazel brown eyes, and I’ve just arrived on my first day here. My parents sent me here because apparently public school isn’t good enough for me. But the reason they don’t know is that my parents would rather not have a son like me around them, snobbish twats. I’m just not good enough for them because I’m gay... Oh yes, did I not mention, I’m gay...and single... and full of a house with lots of boys in it. Oh b

No, no, no. "Recognize this?" Jace asked, holding it up between two fingers. "You gave me this back in middle school when you were confessing your undying love for me." God no. Why the hell did he still have it? It was my private journal from middle school. The one where I had poured out every single ounce of my pathetic, embarrassing teenage soul. The journal contained pages and pages of explicit p**n and deeply humiliating romantic fantasies I had written about him years ago, back when I was just a lonely, awkward girl who secretly, desperately wanted her crush to notice her, instead I got a bully.

Four years ago, I’d thought it made me look cool. God… I was so stupid. I tossed it onto the bed and reached into the box again. This time, my fingers closed around something smooth. A book. I wiped the dust off the cover with my palm—and froze. It wasn’t just any book. It was my diary from high school. I always waited each year for summer to write down what had taken place over the previous months. Slowly, I opened it to a random page and read. Dearest Diary, On February 24th, 2020, Liam Kayne finally asked me to be his girlfriend and I said yes.