Diary Writing Novels & Stories

Dear myself , I feel like writing dear diary is too embarrassing to say so I'm going to write to myself . It's true . Only my eyes are allowed to read these words on this page and it feels great so far . I see why Ace does this now and yes he is my inspiration for starting one of these . I think I need somewhere that I can talk about anything . I can talk about anything to Ace and I know that but I can't talk about Ace to Ace. He just wouldn't understand and he'd be over dramatic because that's one of his traits whether he agrees or not .

4th January 2022 I am writing furiously on my diary and im sorry to it because I feel like I'm going to explode. the guilt of taking a father away from a baby and trying to justifying saving my brother's happiness and life with it. "What are you doing? We have the night train to catch and you've been writing on that diary since yesterday" Olson walked into my room "Nothing.. I just wanted to write down the excitement I feel about finally leaving this place" I smiled standing up.

Azrael gasped. “Thank you, for standing up for me.” I thanked Azrael and he nodded, I, then opened the book, reading the first page. “05/08/90 Dear Diary, I’ve decided to write a journal from now on, it sounds cool to have your life written on the paper. Let’s work together… but I actually don’t have anything to say right now, I’ll come back tomorrow.” I snickered at my mother’s words, my eyes beginning to water and I sniff them back in.

But where? I opened my wardrobe to check whether I put my diaries in there. I removed all the clothes in all wardrobe layers, but I couldn't find my diary! I wrote everything in there since I was 20. All my hopes, my dreams, fantasies, and desires are all there. My diary is like my best friend who knows me from head to foot.

Grace knew her mother would find a way so she decided not to worry. The Drive to the house was long, but Grace couldn’t tell as she fell asleep almost immediately her mother reeved the engine. She only remembered being woken up by her mother to get up and head inside the house. She had managed to take her bath despite her tiredness and changed into her nightwear. Picking up her diary her pen, She starts to write about the long day she had, She had been writing diaries ever since her father died, it was a habit of her dad to write his experiences on paper, so it was no surprise she had 8 diaries belonging to her name. She believed when she wrote about her day, she would be able to experience

" I said then got up to serve a customer who just arrived. Peter left the bar to go watch a football match at the London cinema. There were few customers in the bar and I was tired of studying. Registration for the Senior Secondary School Examination I missed will commence in a month. From the cookies I have been selling at the bar, I was able to raise a quarter of the money. My mother would complete the rest and God knows I have been praying we have enough. I took out a pen from my notebook and resolved to writing. The parcel Dr. Amrah gave me as a birthday gift was a large Diary of almost a thousand pages and a dozen pen. I knew what it meant. She wanted me to keep writing. I brought the d

Yes, it is that lengthy and I can tell because one entire page of my diary is filled with the explanations which are supposed to be my speech in front of him tomorrow. "What are you doing?" Laila asks as she closes the door behind her. "Mi is a student." Sonia says in her cute voice and Laila's eyebrows furrow. She looks at the diary in my hand. "I didn't know that you journal your feelings." She scratches her dumb head. "Ugh! No. I don't. And this is not my feelings…" I look at my disgusting handwriting who only I can read. The doctors should hire me to write them. No one would have a doubt that it is my handwriting. "...okay, maybe it is. Kind of."

As she searched through them, her fingers touched something hard. She pulled it out. A small brown diary. Ann stared at it. She had bought it years ago, before she married Daniel. She remembered writing in it during her younger days. Dreams. Plans. Little secrets. Things she couldn't tell anyone. She smiled sadly. She hadn't written in it since her wedding. She sat down and opened the first empty page. For several seconds, she held the pen without writing. Then she finally wrote. Dear Diary, She stopped. The words suddenly felt strange. Then she continued.

---------------- Dear Diary… Why is it that these boys just won’t listen to me? They seem to think my visions are not serious. But why would they happen if they didn’t mean something? If they weren’t going to happen? To me, that makes no sense. If they won’t listen, I will go and do something about it. But I need to try and make them listen because they are more likely to be able to help than I am. I am so clueless as to what to do to help. I need to get them to listen. Argh! My brain is frazzled right now, worrying so much for my friend. ----------------

My biggest wish now was to have as many adrenaline-pumping as special moments to record in this diary. ** Dear debauched diary... I smiled as I scribbled the introduction. I always loved to read and write, in my teens I collected diaries, diaries, random notebooks. But after a while I started to feel ridiculous keeping up this habit. Now, years later, for some reason I didn't feel lame anymore. I felt the need to transcribe my adventures and feelings on paper.