I Hate Journaling Novels & Stories

I showed her my journal, the way I catalogued every interaction, every glance, every word, because it was the only place I had to say any of it out loud. I couldn’t tell him, and I couldn’t tell anyone else, so the journal became the only place I could admit what he meant to me. I wrote down everything, not just what happened but how it felt, what I wished he’d said, what I wished I’d said back. I told her how I kept hoping he’d say something, do something, make it real. And how every time he didn’t, it hurt more, because I had all those hopes spelled out in ink, proof that I wanted more even when I couldn’t ask for it.

I didn't know who he was, or why he was so dear to me, but I knew that I loved him. On some days I wanted to put down my thoughts in the journal the kind lady brought to me, stating it was mine, even though I don't remember owning a journal, or even writing the ocean of words inside of it. But I couldn't. Not because I didn't want to, but because I couldn't bring myself to, didn't know how to. The black slick object with a cover she called pen felt foreign in my hands, and I couldn't wrap my head around how to use it.

And the worst part was, I had already written part of a story in it, which would be terribly embarrassing if anyone read it. That doctor already knew my status and full name. He knew about my problems, and now… should he also get to know the story inside my notebook? I should’ve known journaling was a bad idea. I should never have gone along with that silly thought just because I saw a box full of my old journals in my apartment. Damn it, I didn’t have a choice. So, I decided to walk out of my room and head back toward the rooftop. Silence greeted me again, just like the first time I’d come here.

I say as I felt rage eat through me as I spoke. I hated the fact that just talking about it brought that that undeniable feeling of hate,rage and hurt as i talked about the probability of me running into him. I hated the fact only his memory just made it so obvious at the fact thay I was not done with what had happened over six years ago, and I could not help it as I felt my insides constantly heating up with so much rage and anger. " I get it,but you really need to calm down okay?" I hear Brielle tiny voice say again snapping me from my train of thoughts.

For the love of God, say something, old man! "I'd be remiss if I didn't tell you I'm disappointed but, Moby, you're cheating yourself more than you're cheating those who love you. Why go to the lengths to create fake journals?" "I wish I could tell you I have some great reason behind it, or justify it logically, but the fact is I can't. I promise myself every day I'm going to change things. I have every intention of doing the work, but as soon as I get ready to, I can't find the motivation."

Happy birthday to me, I guess. Till we meet again dear diary. I tucked my pen away in my pockets and closed my journal with a heavy sigh before putting it in the backpack I had brought along. I couldn't drink as I would on my birthdays, as I had given it up knowing Amara hated the stench and smoking was out of the option, that, I gave up a very long time ago.

" Are you serious? I mean… you said you didn't even know I would be here… " Of course! I bought it on impulse, just because I thought it was cute at the time, but I never liked writing diaries, I write on my blog, on my cell phone. Well, if you don't want to, I'll understand too… " Oh, no, imagine. I loved it, I accept it. Thank you very much. - I smile, hugging the small notebook. So many ideas came, suddenly, like a tsunami to my mind. My biggest wish now was to have as many adrenaline-pumping as special moments to record in this diary.

I said as I wipe my non existing tears. "You both are mental!" Usher snickered to us. And we both glared at him . "What?" He asked like his shocked "Shut up! Your also mental!" We three laughed. Well, as I said I do have plan on settle down. But contrary to that, I still not yet found the woman that's right for me. As I can see, women just after my fame, money and bodddy???. Hhahaha.. of course please don't get me wrong people! Peace.. ✌️✌️✌️

She was just a damn hypocrite. Allison sighed heavily. She used to write down all of her worries in a journal, but she stopped doing so a few years ago. She couldn’t bear to read her last entry, so she buried the journal at the bottom of all her documents in a drawer, never wishing to see it again. When Matthew asked her that day in the hospital if she wanted a new journal, for a split second, she almost agreed to his offer. However, the painful memories came back to her once again, and she found herself refusing it instantly.

He talked about love and how much love can heal a broken mind and soul , stating that if you must love then you must forget all the pains in your heart. "The love you hated could be your perfect love. The love I hated saved me and has mended my heart for good", Harry said in his speech.