Journal Story Of My Life Novels & Stories

When the judge asked him why he had killed me, he replied coldly, "Because Zachary was too brilliant. I was worried that he'd take the director's position once my mom retired." I sighed. From the moment I began studying medicine, all I ever wanted was to fulfill Mom's dream—to save lives. I never cared about the director's title. And besides, with how much she pampered Sean, there was no way she'd choose me over him. Watching the ones who hurt me fall, one by one, I finally felt free. I knew it was time for me to return to where I truly belonged. The sun was especially bright today, and I felt just as warm. This life had been full of hardship—now, I could only hope the next one would be gent

Someone always does. I gathered the folder, slid it into my tote, and lay down with the light still on. Tomorrow, the chapel. The next day, the clinic. By Sunday, Veronica’s desk. By the memorial, I’d have more than doctored photos. I’d have a story people already know how to tell. A story that fits headlines and dinner tables and men who prefer their wives obedient. A story that says: She did this to herself. He chose her. Now he’ll have to live with her. And with the truth I make for her.

“Stop using your cryptic descriptions, tell us what we don’t understand!” I pause for a moment, unsure if the moment has finally come to tell the truth of my story. I opened my mouth, intending to start slowly, but the stress of the last few days came tumbling out of my mouth. It felt so good to finally admit to the true story of my rebirth, the violent death I suffered at the hands of Harper and Lucas, the vicious tyranny I witnessed in my past life, and finally the terrible fate I knew they were destined for if they weren’t willing to listen to me.

“But isn’t it crazy that our lives could fit into one book?” I looked at him with a profound smile. “Oh my God! That has to be the most accurate thing I’ve heard today. Everything we’ve experienced, all in one book. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Now I feel so inadequate. What qualifies me to even tell the story of both our lives?” Jared only smiled wider. “To the bold belongs the fortune.” I looked at him with a curious smile. “Where did that come from?”

Maybe the only fun I had there was flying with swords. Then the future galactic world? Honestly, out of all my ninety-nine reincarnations, I didn’t reach that kind of world yet or even some apocalyptic world, and I’m thankful for that. [11:59 pm] It really felt like I am having some sort of a countdown for New Year. But in my case, it's a countdown for my New Life. Yes, let's just call it new life and not death. It sounded depressing to call it like that.

I went through my highs and lows , with no one but God on my side – and honestly , I have fought through it all. Telling you guys , my readers , about my life has not been easy – some times it had gotten a little emotional and some times it even got a little painful. How ever , the need to tell and spread the word of what I had gone through was to great. Who knows , maybe by telling this story I could finally help a few women out who were going through the same. I want to show people that it is okay to be in a slump , it is okay to some times fall…but it is not okay to stay down.

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.

but I only understood their torment when I was thrown into that agony. You might have seen or heard so many people struggling, fighting and suffering in life but have you ever went through it; have u ever felt the same torture in ur life; if yes then you can imagine it yourself and if not then now you're knowing through my story; the ache and afflictions I went through that also made me question about me and my life; the life which was yet to start; which was also already tainted.

I’m not going to have to dodge that storm, and I can skip all my recuperating rituals. Tomorrow, I’m quitting my job. Next week, I’m flying back home. Biswa was distraught, when I told him about my decision when he called last night. He couldn’t believe it for a while. “What the hell will you do there?” he asked. I remembered Nisim’s insight: For the greatest story-tellers, telling their story is their deepest yearning. It’s their way of life. “I’ll write the second story.” I said. “Second story? When did you write the first one?”