Breaking Walls | ✓

Chapter 38: Dear Diary

Wilder

I tried to sleep but I couldn't get my mind off the journal I had found/stolen from Kea's hidden box.

So now after what seemed like a hundred expresso shots later, I sat on the edge of my bed and opened the first page of this diary that belonged to the girl that seemed like the last person to write her feelings in a notebook.

She hardly knew what she was feeling herself half the time, let alone actually write them down.

Little did I know I was actually right.

I opened the first page,

This notebook/diary slash whatever belongs to Kea Faye and if you don't know me. Well, if you flip the page any further I will hunt you down and you'll find out exactly who I am when I'll be burying you alive in an abandoned scrapyard, out of town. And if you do know me then you've probably already kept this journal down. Great. Now just drop it off to my house and no one will get hurt.

Why did this note feel more personal than general?

No matter how scary or true that note was, I continued.

I was inviting my own death and here I had thought I had stopped being suicidal. Great.

Hi? 

The thing about having a mother who's a psychologist is that you have to be subjected to their different theories and experiments on how to raise a perfectly emotionally balanced child.

Unfortunately, my mother had me and this is her way of normalising me.

I have to write something every day. Lucky for me I didn't mind writing shit down, but then my mother asked me what I'd written about and when I told her, she gave me a disappointed look, along with that a brand new task. To write about my daily life, what goes on in it. 

What kind of fresh hell is this?

She thinks it'll help me cope with dad leaving. Well, there is nothing to cope with. He left without a word in the middle of the night, like a coward. There is nothing more to it.

Nothing more I understand anyway.

But I suppose I could give her this much since she puts up with me and always has my back.

And she promised me that if I am really open and honest in 'here' she'll never talk about this again and leave me and this stupid journal alone, provided the fact that I'm supposed to go all 'Dear diary' up in this notebook.

She gifted this diary to me, said it belonged to my dad. He loved collecting them, and as much as I want to hate the man I can't. And trust me I've tried.

So maybe that'll be my topic for tomorrow. I'm too tired for it today anyway. Had detention again. I quite enjoy it actually- the silence.

Maybe I'll make it a daily thing we'll have to wait and see.

Also, I don't know if this is important but there is a new guy in school, everyone's been buzzing about. I heard he's from New York. I bet he's just another one of those rich brats moving for a more popular small-town experience before college. Everyone in this town thinks anybody that comes here from anywhere fancy is a celebrity.

Idiots.

Anyway,

ciao

Until I'm forced to write in you again.

..

At least I made it to her first diary entry. Not too bad for a rich brat.