I Hate Journaling Novels & Stories

He was still acting like a pathetic little child. By the time I finished writing all my thoughts down in the journal, I noticed that I had filled four whole pages. I didn't realize that there was so much going through my head. But it did feel like a relief to get it out in the open. Well, at least in my journal. It was something that I needed to get out. Even if it was just to myself. To a book sitting in front of me. A book that would never betray me or hurt me.

July 2nd, 1943- First Diary Entry. I hate writing and I don't know why granny gave me a diary for my birthday I mean it's a book, I can't even eat it and it's not even cute. Anyway, granny said I would know what to write about when it was time but I think the crazy is getting to her.

Dear Diary, I've started journalling again after two years. The reason I stopped was because of a man. And the reason I'm writing again is because of another man. I think I'm cursed in that department. I'm ten days into getting over Darnell and somehow it feels like I haven't made any progress at all. Like for one, if I'm really determined on getting over him, I wouldn't be writing it down in a damn book. I dropped the pen and closed the book harder than necessary. This wasn't working. I picked up my coffee and took a sip before setting it back down. I remembered asking for vanilla in my coffee but it tasted completely bland. One of the many reasons I missed Café Denise.

“Figures.” Silence stretched between us for a moment, but my mind refused to shut up. Images of Victor standing beside another woman kept replaying in my head like punishment. “I hate him,” I said suddenly. Jane groaned. “Please do not start.” “I mean it,” I continued, sitting up on my bed. “I really hate him.” Jane turned back to look at me. “You hate everyone when you are emotional. Last week it was the barista because she spelled your name wrong.”

“Yeah. I used to write.” “Really?” “Mm-hmm. Short poems and journal entries mostly. Like it was very bad. I once tried to rhyme orange with door hinge. But it helped.” “What happened?” “Same thing. Life. Work. Adulthood.” I said. “Plus, I opened one of my old journals in sophomore year of university, and I realized that it was mostly nonsense scribbled in the pages. So I haven’t really bothered with it ever since.” “I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad.” He said.

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Our hate, our jealousy cost a lot. She stands up and walks out of my room. I remain in the same position and crying harder then before. I see my diary on nightstand and grab it. I open it to read. 2019: Dear mom, Today is the worst day of my life. It’s been months since I wrote you and in that months we suffered a lot. Every day I fear. I fear for losing you. I don’t know mom, how I say. How I say that you left us. You left us alone. How I say mom. How? We lost you mom. Mom you were the one who made our family happy. Mom you left us today. Today is your funeral and I can’t sit there with everyone. You know that mom, I don’t like sympathy. I don’t like condolences. I just hate it. That’s why

"This means more to me than words can express." With renewed determination, Katie began using the journal to chronicle the stories of the individuals she had helped. Each entry was filled with heartfelt reflections, capturing the essence of their struggles and the triumphs they had achieved. The journal became a testament to the power of resilience, self-discovery, and the transformative nature of love.

I calmed myself and went to sleep even it was still daytime. I write on my diary. I started my diary since the time Hero started making moves on me because I have no one to tell my feelings about him. I can't tell my problems and worries about him to my father, so I bought a thick notebook and a small box that I can securely keep it. In my diary I write everything about him, my feelings, hatred, anger, happiness, worries, and funny things we did. It made me smile so crazily when I wrote about our sex escapades, his insatiable sex drive on me, how I love him, his weird allergy to women.

Thursday, 13 February 2014 11:00pm Dear Jennifer, I have decided to write a personal journal to help me cool off my head over the tough times I face with my family. Should anything weird happen to me one day, I hope this book will find its way to you and help solve the riddles around my situation. I am not predicting something bad to happen to me or my family any soon; however, the future, and all its occurrences, is inevitable.