Teenagers Diary Novels & Stories

"Didn't I tell you that you're the only woman he loves deeply? One more reason I came here. I want to give this to you." She got stunned when the old woman suddenly handed her a familiar notebook that she was starting to recognize. To her surprise, it was the diary she owned way back in her high school days. The diary where she chronicled all her feelings to Thyago way back in her teenage days, the diary where it all began...

Dear Diary, I'm so sorry I didn't have time to write yesterday but trust me the wait was worth it. I didn't even get back to my dorm room until 4am and at that point I was in no state to write an entry. Honestly I still don't know exactly how to even begin to explain the rollercoaster that was the past two days. I mean last time I wrote everything was so much simpler than it is now. I mean I literally feel like a different person right now after kissing three different girls and yet I feel more scared than ever to come out. I'm sorry I'm getting a head of myself, let's start with yesterday before I spoil the whole story.

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.

LISA May 8th 2018 I crash through the changing room door, on the verge of bringing up last nights dinner. I hate that I'm too shy to tell Chad I'm not okay with him asking me for kisses. But I feel like it's expected of me because I work here, I'm not like the other girls. I don't sleep with the clients, I only deal with the girls. I'm the one they come to see when they require new outfits, toys, supplies, etc. You could say I run the house and I think that's why Chad tries to play

he ignored my question and called the server. “Do you have anything spicy here?” “Um...like what?” “Never mind, Do you have French fries?” “Yes.” “I will bring it.” When the server left, he turned to me. “Then what’s that note? Any study stuffs.” “It’s my diary. I will write about myself and my daily life. But I don’t feel like writing it anymore” “Why?” he said without taking his eyes off me. “Cause nothing good happens in my life, so why should I have one. I want life to be happy, interesting with a little of passion, adventure, love which I never found.”

______ From tomorrow it's a chapter daily with the exception of Sunday which no updates still appears. Please bear with me. This is a work in progress and I'm yet to complete it. I'm trying to balance writing and my daily life. Thanks for understanding

And the monster’s victory is so complete, it leaves you wondering if you’re reading the journal of the victim… or the secret, proud biography of the victor. Then, after a long pause, Adam lifted the diary again. His thumb brushed along the edge of the next page. “…Okay,” he whispered. And he opened the diary. ——— Episode 20 – Pool Party The envelope was thick, cream-colored, and smelled faintly of chlorine and expensive perfume. Mason’s name was scrawled across the front in a looping, feminine hand. He slit it open with a thumb, his calloused fingers a stark contrast to the delicate stationery. Inside, on a cardstock the color of a summer sky, were the words:

Dear Diary, Today started out like crap. I woke up feeling all bleh, so I told my step dad and he said I could stay home from school. He’s pretty cool like that, I guess. I dunno, I kind of think that when you're 18, you can do whatever the hell you want.

The edges were frayed, and the leather was scuffed. I pulled it out. On the inside cover, written in a cramped, youthful hand, was a name: Gideon Moore, Age 10. A diary. I sat on the floor behind the desk, the notebook heavy in my lap. I felt like a thief, but I couldn't stop myself. I opened to a random page in the middle.