Diary Everyday Life Novels & Stories

Anything and at any cost. I felt miserable. Why should everything bad in this awful life always happen to me? Am I destined to never live a happy day? God, please help us, please. Cure Cody and let him be healthy again. I can't take it anymore. This little boy shouldn't endure so many things in his life. It's too much for him!

So she said she was content seeing how Elijah would eventually be defeated and have no chance of spreading evil anymore. I feel happy having met my grandma. Who would have thought that the woman in my diary was actually alive? She told me that she decided to write the diary when she and Mike started to have their own family. In the diary, she could say how much she loved her mate without Mike knowing. She also didn’t want to hurt him, and I understand her; we felt the same way.

I calmed myself and went to sleep even it was still daytime. I write on my diary. I started my diary since the time Hero started making moves on me because I have no one to tell my feelings about him. I can't tell my problems and worries about him to my father, so I bought a thick notebook and a small box that I can securely keep it. In my diary I write everything about him, my feelings, hatred, anger, happiness, worries, and funny things we did. It made me smile so crazily when I wrote about our sex escapades, his insatiable sex drive on me, how I love him, his weird allergy to women.

Dear Diary, My therapist said I should write down my thoughts and my feelings in this journal. I don't know if this will help me or not, but I am tired of waking up in hysterical tears and not being able to tell anyone why. It is scary to see the different scenes in my head and not know what they mean or remember the circumstances around the different dreams.

According to the diary, the alarm was a sign that a Xenobeast had entered the base area. "If you're not ready to fight, it's better to just stay at home," I whispered, reading the sentence in the diary. "Huh?" Somehow this diary felt like it was talking to me. Duna's writing style was quite unique and felt familiar to me. There were only bottles of water and soda in the fridge, but I found plenty of snacks in the cupboard. The contents of this cupboard are even much fuller than the contents of the refrigerator. Duna seems to prefer snacking than cooking. Well, that's not bad.

and for me to prove that I’m no longer the girl he can bully. I fished my diary entry and looked out of the window of my apartment. Some people might regard writing a diary as an old fashioned juvenile activity. But for me, it's a way to process my thoughts and emotions. I used to write a diary in school, but I lost it on the day of graduation. In a way, it was good; I was able to start fresh in my adult life without the weight of my past entries. I slipped into my bed and closed my eyes. Tomorrow was a big day. ********************************************************

She explained, my whole attention focused on picking up every word carefully. "There's a diary, now most people thinks it's just for kids, but it isn't. I have a diary currently, it's my ninth diary and it would soon be finished, just a few more pages and I'll be tearing open the carton of my tenth diary cause I use two diaries a year since I started using it permanently." She went on and on, leaving me with lips hanging open in surprise and awe. "There are a lot of things you can do to free your mind and clear your head daily."

I am not understanding a word. Why his life is a mess?? I want to know everything?? Happy family back?? Ohhh goodddd my head is spinning. I can't understand. I am gonna read this whole diary now. So I flipped the page. Dear diary. Miserable, traumatized and sad. That is what my life is. Today my dad did something that no one can even imagine. He told me bad omen and what not. He told me I should die. I should die he is right. Rather then living my life like this I should die. He is correct.

But as I held the book in my hands, something inside me kept whispering. Just open it. Just one look. She can’t possibly be hiding anything serious… right? Curiosity slowly took over my thoughts. Before I could change my mind, I opened the diary. The first few pages seemed completely normal. Just simple entries about her daily life. She wrote about going to school, small arguments with classmates, random thoughts about things that annoyed her, and even little complaints about assignments. It all looked very ordinary. Just a normal girl writing about her normal life. I flipped through more pages slowly.

I made coffee the way I liked it - strong, with too much sugar - and sat by the windows watching the neighborhood wake up. A young couple walked by holding hands, both carrying art portfolios. A elderly man walked his dog, stopping to chat with neighbors. A woman about my age jogged past in paint-splattered clothes, probably heading to a studio job. This was what normal life looked like. Not crisis management, not corporate drama, not hiding from dangerous people. Just regular humans going about their daily business, pursuing their own dreams, living their own lives. I wanted that. I wanted to be a regular person with regular problems and regular joys.