Diary Novels & Stories

Why can't I remember anything? I put my index fingers on both sides of my head and slightly massage the corners of my head. What a horrible dream. I think to myself. I get out of bed, brush my teeth and grab my phone before heading downstairs. I start texting Kali. Me : I had a terrible dream last night. There was a girl who looked exactly like me except her eyes were completely black. Kali : You have an evil alter ego? Me : Very funny. Kali : I'll pick you up at 1p.m and you can tell me all about it.

*** Dear Diary, As I write on this final page, I want to thank you for being a safe space for me to share my thoughts. Writing here has always been a way for me to communicate with clarity, to learn more and to be more productive. It has always given me an awareness of reality, thus helping me make better decisions for me to be happier and to live more focused. I have a lot of written memories here, and I wish I could write here forever. Thankfully, I can go to the pixie in the enchanted forest to get another diary just like this one so I can continue those special memories. I will definitely miss writing here, but I am also gla

The sides of the pages of the diary crumble in my hands and are reduced to ashes. The sun has come out and I start to sweat. I look at the diary. It has nothing written on the cover, except the year—2010—which is faded. There is no auto in sight. I sit on the pavement and flip through the contents. It is nearly full. The handwriting is not the best, but it is neat and deliberate. The first few pages are damaged beyond recognition. The top-right corners of the pages keep crumbling into charcoal.

The open diary, the small secret, slips from my hands and drops on the floor with a thud. It’s me.

{About who and what I am, or was if I am dead, oh baby girl. "Mom? Who are you?" {About his world and my world. Oh, baby girl, I wanted you to experience as much of an everyday life as I could have given you. I know it was not much. Please forgive me. There is a diary with all the details of your Father's and my relationship, a picture of your Father, and behind it is his name and contact info should you decide you would like to meet him.

Except for the book, which he carried out to take a proper look at it. Joe jumped on the bed and placed the book before him to rest on the bed. He opened the first page gently. The book wrote dear diary on its first page. Joe adjusted his sitting position to lay on the bed to enjoy the content. “I never thought I would also be writing a diary of my own, well, I guess I am now” the next line of the diary stated. “The first experience I would like to write about on this day being the second day in the month of November 2021 is that…

I know that one day, I'll find what I've lost, and I'll transfer everything I write here to it. I feel a bit embarrassed, for some reason, as I describe our kiss. I smile foolishly, looking around to make sure I'm not being observed. I've been keeping diaries since I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder six years ago. In fact, it was one of my doctor's recommendations. Since I'm a visual person, I wanted something unique and personalized, so I started making my own diaries, from the cover to the pages, the design, and the printing.