The Sober Diaries Novels & Stories

Nothing to worry about. As we sat on a tree stump, Justin and I talked about nothing in particular for most of the afternoon. "So what do you think is going to happen tomorrow?" Justin asked about it. "Can you tell me what it is?" I'm speechless. "I've been sober for 100 days." "Shut up, Justin. That is incredible! "I'm delighted for you," I told him. —Me too.— Justin's lips were on mine as I moved closer. "I'm really happy for you," I told him. "That's huge."

Bicycles in front of the house, Violet with a tired body slowly entered her house. “ Hello Dad, I am going home from work. You know? Today is a tiring day, but don’t worry, because everything is fine. I will try harder to earn money to treat Mom and be a Mom backstay. Dad, please give me power… Dad… I miss you so much.” - Violet walked back to her father’s altar to talk.

I don't think anyone would be able to replicate this. "Damn this heart! Why does it beat for you? Why do I become an idiot whenever you're around? I've exploded before, crash landed and burned. I hauled my smouldering self out of the crater, Breathed life back into my own skull. It took me so long to look in the mirror with perfect confidence so tell me why, why, why!- Whyyyy? Now I can finally dance again, Whyyy? Right when I can finally breathe, Whyyy? When it feels so good to be me....dammit!"

I feel like I am in an alternate universe where nothing makes sense. Hazel My mouth is hanging open by the time I finish with this page. Hazel is right. He is insane! I come from a line of insane people. December 20th, 1972 Dear diary, I am going crazy. My mate is a nutcase. He won't even let me open a window to get fresh air. The same guy from before brings me all my meals because Graham doesn't want anyone else seeing me. He says he is lucky he convinced his father to spare me.

"No, thank you, senor. I work better when I am sober." "You are young and new to this life, amigo. But you will find out that our business and sobriety do not go together. When uncertainty, suspicion, and the faces of the people you have killed and the ones you will kill starts to haunt you when sleeplessness becomes your best friend. Sobriety will evade you," he dragged the plate of cocaine nearer to himself and took a long whiff of it. "Perhaps, you are right," I replied. "You see, we are here to deal with the Visitantes. The bastards that shot at you, I heard," he took a seat beside me.

My first memoir in a new diary. My old diary was filled with stories and stories of girls I've fucked and turned but after this incident that happened on 23/4/2027 I had to start a new diary. So... I was angry that mum was remarrying. I really hate the thought that she couldn't keep her pussy at check after dad's death and jumped into another man's arms. However, she kept reassuring me that it's going to be fine but I hate it as hell.

“Entry Thirty-One: This is the deepest confession. It’s not about pleasure. It’s about being broken. Taken. It’s a fantasy of force so complete it absolves me of choice.” Ophelia’s movements became frantic. This was the core of it, the shameful, pulsing heart of her diary.

my head is still filled with this insane images and I didn't need some boy problems now the locker room was empty when I got there, perfect just what I needed , silence. I sat down slowly, my hands trembling slightly as I opened my bag. the diary was still there, staring at the cover, the bright colors, the stickers filled it front and back, the pink, purple, blue, white, red, all the fucking colors you can think of, it was her, literally and metaphorically her, it was supposed to be filled with adventures and names of friends but instead it corrupted with one persons name, it's so sickening how someone turned something so bright to something so dark, my hands tightens around the book , tear

I don't care about their judgements and what anyone thinks the world could perish for all I care. I slipped my flip flops and stretched my tired limbs. I had the best sleep in months. Who wouldn't? My plans are close to actualization. I walked to my drawer and picked my sacred diary, diary of sins and ran my fingers on the surface before spreading the first page and his name popped up. "ADRIAN CUBAN." In bold letters and a hot tear rolled down my left cheek.

A very elegant design covered the book cover and the words written on the first page filled my heart with nostalgia and longlines. "Personal diary of Aurora Sapphire Brown" Flipping through the pages of the diary at once my eyes saw how her handwriting changed from a kid to an adult...as the dates and years passed with a flip my hand stopped on her last entry ...... Date 27th Feb Time :2 am I can't sleep again ... The medicines are of no use when his eyes haunt my nights... Those cold eyes were again looking at me with hate... Hate is nothing new. I am used to it now...but his hate matters