Diary Mantan Novels & Stories

I take a moment to think about what I can do to exhaust myself and gasp as I remember my grandmother's diaries. "How did I forget," I mutter as I open the draw to the nightstand. I grab the diary I had started months ago and settle back against my fluffy pregnancy pillow. "This will give me the distraction I need," I whisper to myself as I unlock the book. October 9th, 1972 Dear Diary, I feel so alone. Every day is a struggle here. My only friend found her mate last week and left the pack, so now I have no one to talk to. Graham rarely spends time with me, and when he does, it's never nice.

I take out a pen from the drawer and try to write… ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dear Diary It’s been long right? So long that I even forgot that I had something that I had used to track my days. I know I’m wrong over here but I know you will forgive me cause you’re the only friend that I have right now. Oh! I forgot that I have friends now. A bunch of them along with you. I have cute and hot friend Natalie. I know I don’t share much with her but she is someone who took care of me while I was sick.

It is old but seems to be well cared for. “Diary? Who uses a diary now? ” I whispered to myself as I hurried to open it. I was not mistaken. It was indeed a diary. Stoney isn’t a pure stone at all. He’s a softie. Funny that there were still drawings around the notebook cover back then. This is really it. I can already feel the MMK-like story of Cormac. . . the story that will win us over to AFA 2020. The first entry in that diary came to me. It was dated sixteen years ago. March 21, 2004.

Sighing in relief and gratitude, I made my way to greet the mother figure in this house of madness and marched almost immediately towards my room, my fingers crossed that I wouldn't be bothered any further. But life hadn't ever been fair to me, "Don't forget to come back down for diary night ooo, we were all waiting for you," Madam Peju called after me, I paused to give a curt nod to acknowledge her order before disappearing up the stairs to freshen up. I took my time freshening up even though I knew over twenty girls were waiting for my presence before commencing a Friday tradition that I didn't give a fuck about. It wasn't my fault that they were trying to bring out the good in me, the goo

I'm sure you'll know it's him when you cross parts with him* *If you find a girl or a boy(hopefully it's a girl hopefully she's lovable enough for you. You know what I mean) with the frequency, she will need the journal. Not this one. There's another journal. She probably won't be able to read it until she's ready, but when she is, the Harland collection has a companion text that describes the process. The companion text is called the Respondent. If the man has the collection, he may have the Respondent too.*

That indifference hurt worse than anything. At twenty-four I was supposed to be in my sexual prime — a young wife with a tight, eager body and a dripping cunt that craved attention. Instead I was masturbating furiously almost every day, fingering my soaked pussy while fantasizing about being properly fucked. I stayed faithful, but I was miserable. I threw myself into more dance classes, new friendships, and university courses to distract myself. That’s when I reconnected with my old college roommate, Claire. She had moved back to Denver and invited me over for a relaxed dinner with her and her girlfriend, Harper.

I opened the diary to the year where I met Pietro. February 27, 2001. I closed my eyes and tried recalling his face. Whitney sat down while looking at me, she waits patiently. I closed the door and hugged the opened diary. I knelt down and started thinking of that year. Slowly, I started chanting To thee I bestow my soul, salvage my bane life back in time. I beseech thy salvation. I bestow my forlorn life to eternity. Grant me your benediction

My first memoir in a new diary. My old diary was filled with stories and stories of girls I've fucked and turned but after this incident that happened on 23/4/2027 I had to start a new diary. So... I was angry that mum was remarrying. I really hate the thought that she couldn't keep her pussy at check after dad's death and jumped into another man's arms. However, she kept reassuring me that it's going to be fine but I hate it as hell.

Carmen never used to like diary books and thought that they were stupid, reminding you of the reality you want to escape from. Tears fell down her cheeks as she was reading it. 'As you are reading this, you perhaps already know that I left or I am on my way to the airport now. My plane flies at 10 pm. I don't honestly know where I am going and why. But always remember that I'll forever support you. We'll talk daily, please don't cry. I miss you already. Happy birthday again.' As she finished, a sound of a car was heard. Carmen rushed to her bedroom's window and stared outside. It was Liam!

**David’s POV** Here in my New York apartment, as the relentless city rain echoes my mood, I find myself repeatedly drawn to the old, worn pages of Scarlet’s diary. This morning, the echoes of last night's indulgence weigh heavy, a migraine pulsing in the background as I numb it with the usual analgesic. But the diary demands attention once again. I flip to the last entry, a letter penned for me, her "Bumblebee," written in a moment of profound solitude and clarity.