Diary Writing Novels & Stories

She hanged the call and I dropped the phone, my heart elated. I was super happy and excited and went back to my diary, opening up a new page and writing on it. Dear Diary, Today I had sex-with a girl and it was one of the best things ever… I wrote down every single detail of how I felt, the times I cummed and the nasty words that I moaned out loud while she stroked my body on all mannerisms. Yours truly,Diane. I heaved a sigh of relief when I was done and laid back on the couch, still naked.

I am new here so taking a walk will not be an option. I am not sure how this night will go. I will just be in my room and wait for any order from her. Suddenly, I wished I never listened to mom. I stood up and walked into my room looking dejected. I am so unlucky in love. I closed the door behind me and walked to my bed then picked up my phone to write in my diary to see if I could feel better. Writing in my diary relieves me of tension. It gives me this feeling of belonging. There is nothing I don't write in it. Starting from seeing an ant to the thoughts of having Angels watch over me. It's weird right, I know. I am not just normal.

My diary helped me grow personally and captured events that passed by instantly. I desiderated to pen down everything that day. I wanted my diary to have all the precious moments inked in that. That day I experienced things that I could not share with anybody. As I had no one with whom I could do so. I wanted to write whatever I felt like, freely and without outside judgment or criticism.

Dear Diary, Hi. It's Gabriella. This is the first time I've kept a diary so excuse me if this turns out awkward. I decided to write because something weird happened to me last week - until now actually - and I badly needed someone to confide in since I don't have any friends.

- Sierra - Out - I sign all of my little diary entries like that. It's a habit I picked up when I started doing them. It was mainly so I could get my feelings across, rant about things. Discuss my day and hopes and dreams but nearly 6 weeks have gone by and I'm starting to feel like I'm trapped again.

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. ********************************************************

“Well, ever since I was little, I already discovered my love for writing. The thing that influenced me the most was my diary that I hid under my bed. I would write things that happened to me all throughout the day and make a story out of it in my mind. My imagination during my teenage years was remarkable so most of the things I write today was a part of my teenage creativities or ideas.” “So, what do you normally write on your diary?” She suddenly asked that made me feel flustered. “If you don’t mind me asking.” “Uhm… normal stuff.” I feebly answered. A sly smile slowly formed on her lips. “It’s about your crush, isn’t it?” I timidly look away and heard her laugh. The crowd joined and tease

I'm glad I could help her for once at least. "You are still here ?" Mike entered. I didn't hear him knocking. I'm like that these days. I'm just always lost in my thoughts. "Uh-huh," I replied. "What are you doing ?" He asked. Peeking on the dairy in my hand. I wrote a diary for more than three months. Since Izzy got here. Since the day she stepped into my house. I wrote everything in here. I quickly closed it looking at his gaze. I gave him a pointed look. I'll kill you type. He surrendered his hands defending himself.

Then I sit on the floor with the diary in my lap. I open it. (DIARY) Dear Diary, Sorry it’s been over two years since I wrote to you. I stopped because nothing interesting was happening. But today is different. I turned 18 this morning. Everyone keeps saying 18 is the year your whole life changes. I don’t know if that’s true but I hope so. I want a mate. I want a future. I want someone who looks at me the way people look at their mates in cinemas. I flip through more pages; most of the things I saw were small things, Normal things, talking about training, about her mother, about the pack.

“You read the pages I sent. Tell me what you think while we get comfortable.” I sat on the edge of a leather couch, my legs spread a bit, feeling the heat building low in my belly. The whiskey burned going down but loosened my tongue. “Your writing’s raw, Damien. The way you describe the guys fucking, it’s not polite. It’s messy, sweaty, cocks sliding deep, balls slapping, the kind that leaves marks and cum everywhere. I like that. Makes me wonder how much of it comes from real experience.” He moved closer, sitting right next to me instead of across the room.