Diary Mantan Novels & Stories

Dear Diary, I'm so sorry I didn't have time to write yesterday but trust me the wait was worth it. I didn't even get back to my dorm room until 4am and at that point I was in no state to write an entry. Honestly I still don't know exactly how to even begin to explain the rollercoaster that was the past two days. I mean last time I wrote everything was so much simpler than it is now. I mean I literally feel like a different person right now after kissing three different girls and yet I feel more scared than ever to come out. I'm sorry I'm getting a head of myself, let's start with yesterday before I spoil the whole story.

Dear Diary, It's been a few days since I last wrote to you. Nothing special happens on my day so I can't tell you anything. Only now can I write to you again because what happened to me last night was so good and satisfying. I killed Rhiza even though she did not do anything bad to me. Maybe I was angry with her for what her girlfriend Clarisse did to me. I promised myself that Clarisse will be the one I will kill next so that they will be together in hell after all, that's where they belong. We will also meet there but it will be a long time before I die. I will just kill my classmates first because they deserve it.

he ignored my question and called the server. “Do you have anything spicy here?” “Um...like what?” “Never mind, Do you have French fries?” “Yes.” “I will bring it.” When the server left, he turned to me. “Then what’s that note? Any study stuffs.” “It’s my diary. I will write about myself and my daily life. But I don’t feel like writing it anymore” “Why?” he said without taking his eyes off me. “Cause nothing good happens in my life, so why should I have one. I want life to be happy, interesting with a little of passion, adventure, love which I never found.”

The journal is the kind of journal that women who are gone used to keep on the nights the women who are gone could not sleep, in the way that women who are gone used to keep journals on the nights the women who are gone could not sleep when the women who are gone are the kind of women who are gone who used to keep journals on the nights the women who are gone could not sleep. This is Lena's journal, Margaret says. Lena kept this journal for the last two years. Lena kept this journal for the last two years of her life. Lena kept this journal for the last two years of her life in the way that women who are gone used to keep journals for the last two years of the lives the women who are gone ar

I can only conclude because this is not written in the diary either. "Does Duna actually know what a diary is?" I complained. After storing the ID Card and mercenary ID in the drawer, I took some packets of cookies from the cupboard and read the diary again. If I look again, the first few pages have been torn. Maybe Duna used to write a diary, but suddenly made this book into a notebook. Starting from the Xenobeast category, mercenary system, base system, to how to use guns and laser swords. January 27, 3043

I love you and I always will. The rest of the pages held diary inpista that dated up for months even years.As I spent every day resing through the journal,I felt like I was beingcatapulted to a years back when I must have been a little baby.This woman gave detailed descriptions to things,events that happened that it almost felt so surreal. Manuel had gotten back his strength and eveything had gone back to normal.But I couldn't stop reading throse journals.For weeks,whenever I was alone or had some alone time I would sneak away to go read.And every page sucked me in even deeper.

Jordan's view point I've got a new home now. The cartons are still stashed somewhere in one corner, and the fastest attention grabber is the big mirror wedged against the wall of my bedroom. It looks enormous just leaning against the wall; soon, I’ll watch myself touch myself through this very mirror. My heart beats up a little; I have waited for this: a singular act of claiming this space as my own, truly seeing myself as I am- a trans man in love with his body. No distractions.

“Though I don’t know what he found so interesting about this specific entry. This diary is enchanted, as you may already have noticed. If anyone other than a duly recognized person tried to open the diary, all they would see would be a few hundred pages of nonsensical, mundane entries written in Gaian. The real form of this diary is an audio recording of whatever the owner wanted to keep safe.” “This entry was dated year 368…That’s like, two hundred and thirty years ago,” I said. “And the woman who owned the diary said something about a Czar. If she was really a Romina ancestor, then she would be referring to the City State of New Moscow, all the way in Western Eurasia.” Dad and the Commande

I wrote about how we grew to love each other, how he had awkwardly confessed to me, how we dated while studying in university, how we started a business, built a company, and how Zach made it bigger and better… I wrote a lot for each entry. As I read through them, I smiled. However, the entries grew shorter the further I got into the diary. Then, in the last entry, I only wrote one sentence. [He’s not back today again.] I took a look at the date. It was dated a few years ago. From that day on, I no longer had the habit of writing in my diary. The diary itself was also forgotten. I sat in front of my table. After a few seconds of hesitation, I picked up my pen again.

This room will never be inhabited again. Ayden's eyes caught a worn, blue diary lying lifeless on the floor. The man stepped his leg closer to the diary and picked it up. There was the name Cheryl in front of it. Cheryl Anastasia. The man opened it before he kissed the diary first. The adult male's body trembled as if he could feel Cheryl's presence in front of him. My name is Cheryl, not a cherry, not a cherry blossom, but a strawberry🍓🍓. I like strawberries 🤗🤗🤗