January 3rd
Dear Diary,
This was never my idea nor was it what I had envisioned when Dr. Chesman told me to keep a log. Of course, Mum was the one to actually go to the shop and buy a journal, and so it isn't my fault that she bought an ugly green one that says "dear diary" at the top of each page.
I don't want to do this, by the way. I didn't want to move to America either, especially not to this old town called Rockland County. Honestly, when Mum told me we were moving to New York I thought she meant the city.
Not that this is any better, of course. I don't like the people here. We've been in our house for exactly two hours, thirty-seven minutes, and twenty four seconds. As of me writing that, obviously. But no one has even come over to introduce themselves. I can't decide whether it's a blessing or not. Either it means that nobody will bother enough to bother me, or this town is filled with rude and inconsiderate people.
Oh, damn. It's neither.
Someone walked over.
Not entirely sincerely,
Charles David Barnes
(A/N: All information about this story and I can be found in the bio section of my profile page. This account and story have been strictly created for #WattPride and discrimination against the LGBTQ+ community will not be tolerated.)
YOU ARE READING
He Was My Everything
General FictionCharles David Barnes has always been, well, different. And he's upset now, more than ever, because his mother moved the two of them from their home in England to New York in America. But of course, Charles doesn't get to live in the city. It's an ol...
