Diaries Aphmau Novels & Stories

Those emotions and feelings were very stressful so i decided to put down my thoughts on piece of paper. It has been 2 years since i saw Andrew. After our heated argument during Amelia's reception i never saw him again. He even stopped visiting hospital and appointed a personal doctor. I shook my head to stop myself from thinking about him. I sighed and got out of the bed. I kept my diary inside the drawer and locked it. If someone found this diary then i am as good as dead. I took a bath and started getting ready for office. I wore pink top and white skirt. I paired my outfit with pink heels and earrings. I tied my hair in a neat bun.

"Dear Diary-Draft, I am grateful for the existence of technology that allows me to write this note now on my cell phone in a draft to later transfer to my physical diary. When I can't bring it with me or when I forget to carry it, using the digital notepad has been my salvation in times of inspiration. Like now. And what an inspiration! Just when I thought the acts of sexual madness had passed their quota, I find myself here, at Metropolity Hospital, wrestling - in a good way - with Professor Stephen Welsh in the supply closet.

It was just his wishful thinking because he was yet to let the whole world see how dazzling his wife was. “I will be arriving at the company soon, we will talk later,” Amelia said over the phone. “Okay. I will be back soon. I hope you have not signed any autograph. I want to be the first to get it so that I can brag about it.” Chloe spoke. “Sure.” Amelia nodded. She hung up the phone and a blue-covered notebook greeted her eyes. It was Axel’s diary and it contained a lot of confidential information. Amelia took the diary but looked at him with a questioning gaze. What was she supposed to do with the diary?

This was going to be a long few days I think… ------------ Dear Diary… What is going on? My body does not even feel like it is my own. It feels unconnected. Like the wires that connect the nerves and the body parts are no longer connecting. Like there has been a mass failure within my body somewhere. I don’t know where Azaria has gone. She has only been with me a few days and the thought of her being gone terrifies me! She is meant to be my wolf, isn't she? What happens if she doesn’t come back? Would I survive without a wolf? And Tate, well he sounds like he is there, I can hear him talking, but he is making no sense, but I think I am talking back. But I don't actually know what I am saying

He handed the diary over, "Don't worry, I didn't read it." I did not take it, "You can read it, it might help in treating my condition." Shawn was my psychiatrist. And the only one who knew all about me. Whether it was the matter of me being drugged and stripped back then, or the matter of Lucien and Carla. But he didn’t know about Damon because we hadn't been in contact for months. Shawn put away the diary, "I’ll take my time to go through the diary.” I looked around "Where's my cellphone?"

However, she still felt that her health had not fully recovered. Perhaps Mia had been hit too many times in the head, so her head would occasionally have a severe throbbing pain, her memory was also unclear, there were things she remembered for a long time, but there were also things she had forgotten even though they had only happened a few hours ago. That was why Mia had to write a diary every day, she was afraid that she would forget important things, she wrote a diary anytime and anywhere. Inside the diary there was a line that Mia had written many times. Every day she wrote this line, so much that it almost filled up the entire page.

The children noticed subtle changes: a softer tone here, a brief moment of laughter there, the beginnings of apologies and acknowledgment of harm. Mathapelo began writing in her journal, a practice she had abandoned long ago. Each entry became a mirror, reflecting her fears, regrets, and small victories. She documented her interactions with her children, her attempts at patience, and her moments of relapse. Slowly, the writing became a lifeline, a bridge between self-destruction and conscious effort.

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

At sixteen, Amirah began to see her school's counselor, it helped for awhile and she had a journal where she wrote a lot of things, her feelings, thoughts and experiences but that was until her mother had found it, read it and burnt it. She'd warned her that someone would find the journal and read about what had happened with Adnan, her mother made her stop seeing the counselor, but at least by then her nightmares had reduced. Ever since that day Hajiya had called her to talk about her brother, they'd returned fully, she'd chosen to not spend another night with Muhammad, she didn't want him to know about that part of her life, she didn't want anybody to but with her nightmares causing her sl

That's a good sign, ain't it? I watch him exit the building through the double doors, and the need to do a happy dance consumes me. I stand there and shimmy my white ass. Fuck yeah! I make my way to the bar and pour myself a Bourbon to celebrate. If he had a good time, I'm hoping next time he'll bring some rich mates with him. “Who did Amar Diamandis visit?” I ask Lisa. She looks at the log, and her eyes momentarily pop out of their sockets. “Mal.” She says, trying to contain the shock and surprise from her voice.