I Hate Journaling Novels & Stories

I hate crying. “I don’t like it,” I whisper. “I don’t like anyone near you. I don’t like anyone calling you theirs. Because every time they do… it feels like something is being stolen from me.” The words rush out now. Messy. Raw. “I know it’s stupid. I know we’re supposed to be ‘family.’ I know none of this makes sense. But I can’t stop it. I can’t stop wanting you. And I hate myself for it.” There.

This mission, I hoped, had nothing to do with me. The room fell awkwardly silent after he left. It was such a big room for just one person. It was beautiful but I hated every part of it. A thought occurred to me- it has been a while since I journalled. I picked up writing my feelings down in a book years ago. It was the only way I could feel heard in the midst of all the madness that surrounded me.

“Why did you bring me out here? “Stay away from him, you trust too easily. He replied. Ariel scoffed in disbelief. “I know you don't like me, but it has nothing to do with Jaques. I was having fun some moments before, stop trying to make my life miserable.” “Why would I want to make your life miserable? Your life is useless.” He replied to the distraught Ariel. She could feel her heart shatter in a million bits. His words had struck her soul. Ariel reminisced about the time she had spent at the orphanage, and how chaotic her life had been growing up. Tears pooled her eyes as all the painful memories flooded her mind. Maybe he was right after all, her life was pathetic. “Why do you hate me so

I've never been good at it. That and my dad says that emotions make a man look weak, therefore he shouldn't show them. Even if this is ink on paper, I don't want to be seen as weak. I'm trying my hardest to write at least something but I can't. Yeah, I've been staring at this page for minutes and I have nothing to say. This is stupid. ... Alexander Montgomery October 27th Age: 16 So, my therapist got angry with me today. He found out I lost this stupid journal and that I have been lying to him about writing in it.

I smile when I realize I have the place to myself for a while. I head to my room, dropping my bag on the floor and collapsing onto my bed. After a few moments, I decide to grab my journal from the bedside table.I didn't talk to Tamrin and Sadie because I can't and I still want to talk to someone. Writing has always been a way for me to process my thoughts, and right now, I need it more than ever. I flip to a blank page and begin to scribble down everything that's been weighing on my mind.

I let out a sigh of relief while feeling some triumph. I decided to begin journaling – someone has told me to try it as it will help you find out who you are. I did not think much of it but as soon as I started writing down points , I felt my soul being filled with self love. After I was done with my journaling , I just sat back against my chair. Today has been good – I feel as if something was lifted of my chest , I felt something different was stirring in the air. Maybe it has to do with the weather today , but I feel like I can conquer anything that comes my way.

Write a story that’s been crawling for four years and still has no ending. Annoy Mom or Paris, which always ends with me getting yelled at. Great. Real healing behavior. I walked to my notebook shelf and pulled out one of my old journals—the one I got on my 16th birthday. I flipped to the first page. Saw my handwriting. Saw his name. Closed it like it was on fire. “YUCK!” I shouted, shaking the notebook like it had germs. Why did I even write stuff like that? That was so gross.

Instead, she shifted gears, asking, "What were you reading?" I snapped my fingers, and my journal reappeared in my hand. It was a treasured possession, filled with entries spanning the past 100 years. I had amassed a collection of these journals, each one a testament to my love of recording every detail of my life. I wrote about experiences, adventures, thoughts, plans, and ideas - nothing was left unrecorded.

Crosses to where I'm sitting and drops beside me. She's close enough that I catch the scent of vanilla on her skin. My eyes track a bead of water sliding down her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of my shirt. She notices. Doesn't move away. "Every good thing I've documented ended badly." Her voice comes out whispered. "My parents' marriage fell apart after I started journaling about how perfect they were." She pulls the journal from my hands. Not angry. Just reclaiming. "Julian disappeared two weeks after I wrote about our future. So I stopped. Because if I don't write it down, maybe it won't disappear."

I just shook my head as I thought of my grandpa's protective personality. I was about to write a journal but whe I open my notebook I have found my name and Zeke's. It was when I tried to play FLAMES so I can see if we are compatible or not. The results are good but what happens in the reality is the opposite. I quickly put it back inside my bag before anyone could notice, especially Zack who loves to gossip everything. Instead, I stuffed out my phone and view my last taken photos. It was when we were at the mountain. I also created it as a video and put it on my F******k as my 'my day'.