So my mom got me this journal for my birthday. She said it’ll be a safe place for me to put my thoughts since I don’t talk anymore. “And when you get older, you can look back and see how you were as a teen. And you’ll see how much you’ve matured.”
That’s her logic. I can write something about my life as a sixteen year old, and then when I’m thirty and realize all the bullshit she was giving me helped me be the person I am.
She’s making it mandatory. I have to keep it until next year, on my birthday.
I have to write in it everyday.
A sentence or a page.
A word or a phrase.
Ha. Look at me being all poetic and stuff.
At least I can be something, you know?
YOU ARE READING
M.J.
Teen FictionWARNING: THIS JOURNAL BELONGS TO A VERY SENSITIVE PERSON WITH SOME REALLY FUCKED UP STUFF GOING ON. DON'T READ BEYOND THIS PAGE UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE TRAUMATIZED. A/N There may be some triggering shit in here so look out. Kay have fun reading
