Thoughts Diary Novels & Stories

and for me to prove that I’m no longer the girl he can bully. I fished my diary entry and looked out of the window of my apartment. Some people might regard writing a diary as an old fashioned juvenile activity. But for me, it's a way to process my thoughts and emotions. I used to write a diary in school, but I lost it on the day of graduation. In a way, it was good; I was able to start fresh in my adult life without the weight of my past entries. I slipped into my bed and closed my eyes. Tomorrow was a big day. ********************************************************

He has thick dirty blonde hair and those blue eyes that make me question everything, and his voice…God, every time he speaks, my pussy slicks up regardless of location and audience. Fuck audience, my body knows it should be under my step brother even if my brain says otherwise. I look over my shoulder and then bend over to write the new thought that has been plaguing me since he arrived from New Jersey last night. I need to write the things no one should ever see in my diary. Things no good girl should ever think of during a fun family time. Everyone else is busy playing with snow and decorating the outside of our home while I'm…busy. They have no idea the pictures I draw in my head and the

Says maybe one day if she really trusts the person. *Her laugh changes when she’s genuinely happy. I want to be the reason for that version more. *Has a fantasy about being fucked against the window where people could potentially see. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. Page after page, it’s all me. Random notes and little observations. Things I’ve only mentioned once in passing. Things I thought only I knew about myself. I slam the journal shut, breathing hard. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do.

Dear Diary, Hi. It's Gabriella. This is the first time I've kept a diary so excuse me if this turns out awkward. I decided to write because something weird happened to me last week - until now actually - and I badly needed someone to confide in since I don't have any friends.

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.

~Samantha's POV~ Dear Diary, today I accidentally saw my step father's cock. And... I can't help but want to have a taste of it. I know how that sounds. I know I shouldn't be writing this down, shouldn't be putting these thoughts into words where they can exist outside my head. But my hand won't stop shaking as I grip this pen, and if I don't get this out somehow, I think I might actually explode.

But the worst part is the tiny, dangerous flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he means it this time. I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The dorm is quiet, shadows stretching across the floor. My chest feels heavy, but I can’t stay still anymore. I go to my desk, grab the small notebook I keep tucked under a stack of textbooks. Not a diary. I hate calling it that. It’s just… a place. For thoughts that are too loud. I flip past pages filled with scribbles and rants, jagged lines where I pressed the pen too hard. And then I start writing.

It was completely messed up, a true-looking disaster of scribbles which he never understood what for. “I am writing. In my mind,” Xiao defended herself, “these are my writings. These are what currently residing in my mind,” she seriously said, without any hidden smile, which made the other leave a blank expression on the face, “I’m trying to write a diary. And it’s in my mind. These are currently my own thoughts,” she said once more before she looked at the notepad that’s floating on the air. It was indeed just scribbles if you take a look at them, but the truth behind, they weren’t because she was plotting something and she didn’t want anyone to know and so she hid them in her own thoughts.

Dear Diary, My therapist said I should write down my thoughts and my feelings in this journal. I don't know if this will help me or not, but I am tired of waking up in hysterical tears and not being able to tell anyone why. It is scary to see the different scenes in my head and not know what they mean or remember the circumstances around the different dreams.

" Are you serious? I mean… you said you didn't even know I would be here… " Of course! I bought it on impulse, just because I thought it was cute at the time, but I never liked writing diaries, I write on my blog, on my cell phone. Well, if you don't want to, I'll understand too… " Oh, no, imagine. I loved it, I accept it. Thank you very much. - I smile, hugging the small notebook. So many ideas came, suddenly, like a tsunami to my mind. My biggest wish now was to have as many adrenaline-pumping as special moments to record in this diary.