Thoughts Diary Novels & Stories

LESLIE’S JOURNAL ENTRIES 001 ******* Dear Diary, Scratch that. Dear Journal? Well, you’re sort of pink, handmade and gotten from the roadside stall of a little girl working on some class project so maybe you're really a diary. However, I am going to pretend this is a journal and this is the beginning of me journaling my new life in a new city. I read somewhere online that it’s a therapeutic practice. For me, it’s an escape. The only way I can express myself in a world where I feel more alone than I have ever been.

why am I thinking of a breakup? I miss him. I’m emotionally unstable. I want everything and nothing.” I closed the diary gently, my heart feeling heavier than when I’d opened it. My thoughts were as tangled as the scribbles on the page. I heaved a long breath, almost like I was trying to push the weight down inside me. I tucked the diary back behind the books, then shuffled quietly to my bed.

I don't keep onw because I don't want anyone getting a chance tu intrude on my thoughts. I put them away and decided that it wouldn't be right to read them. I wouldn't want anyone reading my diary. If I had one. I'm not really a jotting down how you feel kind of person. I bottle up. My thoughts are safe with me. My phone rang on the bedside table. I reached for it and answered the call without checking the caller ID. " Hello" " And here I thought you would be missing me and unable to live with me. I guess I was delusional to think that way," said a dejected voice. I immediately face palmed myself after identifying the voice. My best friend Anthony Warren.

Grabbing the note it reads "My love, I'm sorry I couldn't see you when you woke up but I had to help dad with pack business, I'll see you tonight. I love you, Keenan." I get up and pick out a AC/DC t shirt and a pair of light blue, ripped, skinny jeans, a black lace thong and a black lace bra to match them head to the bathroom. I quickly shower, get dressed, do my hair. Then I make my way down stairs to the kitchen where I see the cook. She's a nice elder lady named Rosie. "Good morning Luna. " she chirps. "Would you like some breakfast?" "Yes ma'am I would. What are you making?"

It was my medical and emotional diary — an idea Isa had when I was a child. "Write everything down, Giu. Even the fears. That way they don't weigh so much inside here." Today I wrote: "10:48 PM – I'm okay. A little tired, but happy with the day. My heart raced when Noah pulled out the chair for me in the auditorium. Idiot. But it was cute. My health? Normal. Didn't feel anything different. Maybe just missing home. Reminder: call Dad tomorrow." I closed the notebook and placed it on the nightstand.

She was feeling amazing and excited because for the very first time, Thyago finally notices and known her existence. When she got home after class, she went straight through her bedroom. Feeling happy and inspired, she decided to make a diary of her own. Not necessarily a typical diary where she'll write about her daily living, it was more like a journal where she will write down all the kept emotions and feelings she has for Thyago. She planned to chronicle all her interactions and emotions she had for Thyago. Something inside her wanted to write and savor this feeling of happiness she has for him because if not, her heart will explode in too much excitement and joy. And there into her bedr

Nodding my head a bit, I fluttered open my eyes and took further steps. Diary writing is no less than a meditation for me to which I look forward to every night. Even now that's all I want to do. Just reach back home and write all these feelings in there. It's like I write a part of my heart in there and then just close it forever for no one to ever know about it. Sighing, It's a dark and cold night. As I took steps ahead, the creepy sense of being watched by someone suddenly fogged my mind.

Ate better and had more positive thoughts. But that diary seemed to have triggered something in me tonight. I opened the small pill box. Only to find it empty. The last of the pills were gone. I can’t even remember the last time I took them. I suddenly felt cranky and very, very angry. I went through every corner of the car. But still no luck. My head hurt like it was about to explode. My whole mood was getting irritated. My eyes fell on the diary. The things that Carla had done were drilled back into my brain.

4th January 2022 I am writing furiously on my diary and im sorry to it because I feel like I'm going to explode. the guilt of taking a father away from a baby and trying to justifying saving my brother's happiness and life with it. "What are you doing? We have the night train to catch and you've been writing on that diary since yesterday" Olson walked into my room "Nothing.. I just wanted to write down the excitement I feel about finally leaving this place" I smiled standing up.

There is no need to write a public blog, a sort of personal journal is perfectly valid. You will live more focused. If you constantly write about your thoughts you will never get out of sight what you want to achieve, which your dreams are. You will overcome tough moments faster. There is some research that suggests that those that write about what is happening overcome tough moments quicker than those who don’t. You will have a lot of written memories. If you write each day, you will have a historical record of your thoughts, probably something much more interesting than a simple photo album. And, who knows, maybe you end up publishing a book ;)