Dear Diary

Dear Diary: Twenty-Five

Eren's Point of View: KoKo_Buni

I could hardly concentrate on anything for the rest of the day; all I could focus upon was his name. Levi. Levi. Levi. The same word replayed over and over in my mind, repeating like a broken record. I needed to know who he really was, not what everyone perceived him to be, yet I didn't know how. What questions would I ask?

Yet, somehow, I didn't become bored of his name. I laughed at my own, stupid, thoughts.

When the last period drew to a close, I watched the clock intensely; I watched the hands move in what seemed like slow motion. An exasperated sigh fled my lips and, when the bell finally chimed, a fleeting moment of happiness suffocated my chest. But, of course, nothing could go right for Eren Jaeger: the world's biggest fuck up.

"Eren, please stay back after class. I'd like to talk to you." The teacher stated dryly, holding the door open for the crowd of hormonal teenagers that dashed out of the class in a hurry. I, on the other hand, had no reason to return home in a hurry.

"What is it, miss?" I questioned, swallowing thickly as I found myself growing anxious.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, raking my hand through my messy hair. It was untameable; not even three layers of hair spray was enough to contain it.

The teacher sighed, closing the classroom door as she grabbed a chair and situated herself in front of my mahogany desk. "Eren, I'm concerned. Your predicted grades are high for this class, but your book has been empty for quite a while." She closed her eyes, finding the correct words before she continued, "I know I seem harsh, but if you don't pay attention then you're going to fail." She said, refusing to make eye contact with me.

"I'll try harder next lesson. Sorry, miss." I lied. She nodded her head, satisfied as she returned the chair back to it's original space. I collected all of my things, shoving them into my bag as I hurriedly fled the now-empty classroom. A sudden feeling of dread washed over me; what if I did fail?

I would disappoint everyone, again.

I had the sudden urge to write in my diary, to bleed words upon the page, yet I had lost it. I would have to write my emotions on paper, rather than in the diary that meant so much to me. When I first received it, I thought it was a fruitless idea, yet, now, I was desperate to spill my feelings into the book.

Clutching the straps of my bag, I left school and practically ran home.

Once I arrived back at my house, I slipped off my shoes and ran upstairs into my bedroom, throwing my bag into the corner of my room. My room was, to put it simply, a mess but I wasn't particularly bothered to tidy it. All I needed (and wanted) to do was write. I grabbed a sheet of lined paper, sitting at my desk as I scribbled words in my messy handwriting. It didn't matter if I couldn't read it, as long as I was able to write, I felt okay.

Dear diary,

Wow. I actually started it like that again, even though this is just a random piece of paper.

It feels weird to write this after a while; I miss writing in my diary. I sound strange, I know, relying on a notebook instead of my friends. Caring about a replaceable notebook rather than my school grades. Oh well, it's not like anyone cares whether I write on this paper or in my diary.

I don't want to fail, yet I'm too weak-willed to study. I completely contradict myself, I know, but how else am I supposed to describe it? It's like loving bananas but being allergic to them. That's me. That one awkward person who says one thing yet does another.

I wonder who Levi is.

Not his name; not where he lives or who he hangs around with. I want to know who he really is. I want to know what he thinks in the morning when he first wakes up, or what he thinks in his favourite lesson. I want to know how he sees himself, how he looks when his hair is messy from sleep; I want to know his interests, the things he hates, I want to know where his favourite places are.

But, most importantly, I want to know what he thinks of me. Do I annoy him? Amuse him? Or neither?

I hope I find my diary soon. What if someone has read everything inside? Maybe I should move on and buy a new one. Yeah, I'll probably do that. My eyes are starting to sting again, I guess I'll go.

-Eren.

Once I had scribbled my emotions, I scrunched it up into a ball and threw it under my bed. My head fell into my hands and I huffed in frustration: what was I doing? Writing pathetic things upon paper rather than getting up and doing them. I desperately yearned for change, for something exciting, yet I was too scared to do anything. I wanted a world of colour- I didn't want monochrome- yet I could never step out of my comfort zone.

It was the harsh reality, but I was a coward.

A coward who complained about how terrible things were, a coward who whined and cried, rather than getting up and changing things. I expected, hoped, that things would change automatically. But they never did.

What happened to me? What happened to the Eren who wasn't afraid of anything; the Eren that was strong enough to walk alone?

I wanted to find who I was again, and I was determined to, even if I had to do it alone.