Jacob's Point of View: -otaku-trash-
I drummed my fingertips against the paleness of my desk, glancing about the room with a tentative stare. I found myself humming along to an odd tune — in fact, I didn't even remember what said tune was called — and I stared at the notebook beside me, watching how it reminded still upon my desk.
My cold fingertips brushed against the cover of my book, feeling the silky material cry beneath my grasp. I read the joined-up writing that danced across the lined pages, hidden meaning resided in the words and I found myself recalling the days in which I wrote this down. Sighing, I puffed out my cheeks and leant back in my chair, finding calmness radiating throughout my body.
"Ugh, it takes so much effort but it helps I suppose." I whispered to myself, which seemed to be a habit I picked up from somewhere that was uncertain.
A pen was resting atop of the wooden desk beside me; I held the pen between two of my fingers and decided to wrote whatever popped into my brain — though, that was easier said than done. It wasn't a story, it was merely a diary or a "journal" that helped me make it past all of the hassle, and it simply made me feel better inside.
Dear diary,
It seems I am back here, with these same messed up feelings as always. I can't continuously smile if I don't mean it, and truthfully my fake smile is slowly shattering beneath the lies; everything is falling out of place, and my sadness is possibly the only thing that seems to be in tact. Why do they think it's funny to make others lives hell? Is their joke still funny when somebody is lying dead on the floor: I don't think so.
I've been searching for quite a while — craving a love I can never quite touch, I can never even let my fingers brush against another's skin. My lips will never graze over another's; my heart will never drum inside my chest when I glance at the one I love. Why? Because I can't love, because everything seems to slip away eventually.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Diary
RomanceNot everyone's life is as easy as it seems; some being able to hide it more easier then others. When a diary is found abandoned on the schools ground, Ashton can't help himself but to take a sneak-peek. Though what he finds is something he is deter...
