Novel & Cerita My Booktok Journal

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.

A window showing a rainy street. But then I saw it. On the girl’s desk, next to her computer, was another book. It wasn't a storybook. It was a **Journal**. And on the cover of the journal, in the girl’s own handwriting, were the words: ***"The Stories I'm Afraid to Tell."*** --- ### The Fear of the Viewer "Don't look at that!" the girl screamed. She lunged for the journal, but she was too slow. I wasn't a girl anymore; I was a leak. I flowed across the room, my inky body moving faster than humanly possible. I reached the desk and touched the journal.

Our bedroom became a place to rest instead of a place to brace ourselves. I bought a journal in March at a bookstore near the foundation offices. Nothing fancy, just a simple leather-bound notebook. That night after the kids were asleep, I sat at the kitchen table and wrote about our life. The mundane, ordinary moments that felt like gifts. Monte is losing his first tooth and putting it under his pillow with such ceremony. Sophia refused to wear anything but her princess costume for three days straight. Four burning pancakes on Saturday morning and Monte telling him it was okay because they tasted good anyway.

##Appreciation post## Hey guys the book has been finally completed. I just want to thank everyone who read my book, gave it gems and even left reviews. @CarlySmith @RuthLiguan @JannesConfai, my top fans and everyone else who voted for my book, I just wanna say thank you so much. I know I have been slow at updating, just one chapter a day but you have always patiently waited for it. Another thank you. If you have any review about the book, let us meet at the comment section.

Once we settle in and she seems more calm, I give her a gentle reminder that she and I still need to talk about what happened the previous night. She sets her burger down and brushes the crumbs off of her fingers. “Hold on, let me get my book.” She climbs off the stool and hops off to her room. She comes back quickly with a ragged, thick blue book with bits and pieces of papers sticking out of it and climbs back onto the stool, facing me. “I'm so glad Mom put this in my bag. She remembered how important it is to me. This isn’t just a notebook, Keller. It’s kind of like a diary, I guess, or a journal? I’ve been trying to figure out the difference. And depending on the website you refer to, I

SO KEEP READING AND ENJOY ! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * // Author’s Note: This is just a sneak peek of the book, ‘My Nerd Mate’. I will release the chapters in it whenever you guys are ready to read it. Do let me know your views about it in the comments section and I will accordingly work on the manuscript.

Moving the light and moving through the spacey room, my eyes then landed on rows and rows of not books, but journals; each one titled on the spine with a date and moving with a hot purpose, my hands found their way to a random dated journal. Flipping through the pages and stopping randomly, my eyes found handwriting that looked so old and ink no longer dark, lightened with age, I read a few sentences. This past week was foul, leaking with appalling tendencies, and as I choose to write this, my hand is shaking with repugnance. Allerick has tried and trued his position to me as Alpha Knight and husband, and even as my best friend, but I feel as if I cannot always condone in sharing my personal

Which was exactly what I did when I filled the leather journal. At the end of March-between the bookstore and counseling-I finished what I'd been working on. I'd painstakingly chosen every word and line that now stared back at me from the pages in black ink and my crummy handwriting. I read through it, happy with how I'd conveyed something so personal and private, yet sad to remember just how morose I'd been when I arrived in the Golden State. Dr. Sarratt thumbed through it during our next session. I spent most of that hour biting my fingernails, waiting for him to respond to what he'd read. Five minutes before our time was up, he pushed the book across his desk.