Why can’t people just see I want to be alone? They don’t understand what I go through at night. They don’t watch me cry. They don’t watch me pour my soul on paper. They don’t see the pain and hurt tearing in my insides. They don’t see the cuts on my wrist. They don’t see the tears streaming down my face right now. Friday, February 8, 2013 at 10:36 in Mr. Grain’s computer class. My fingers hovering over the keyboard typing slowly in despair “This is my story.” I am changing names for obvious reasons. I will be known as Scarlet “Kitty” Rider. Today, I watched my boyfriend, Jack; walk into art class in silence. After we part we don’t talk to other people much. It’s an obvious reason why I don’t have many friends. I have brown plain straight hair, normal-color brown eyes but there is something that sticks out about them they are ringed with a light lilac color. I am an average height if slightly smaller, a normal weight for my age, which is 13. I am wearing my favorite black shirt with a complicated design on the front and wings on the back. My nickname is Kitty because sometimes I can be nice but other times I want to bite your head off. Zack is in my computer class. He is this guy with sort of long black hair and blue-green-hazel eyes. He is about my same size not much bigger… the thing is he likes me but I like him as a friend. He tells me sweet things like “I wish you were mine.” Or “You’re so pretty.” I just don’t like him like that. (/-\)
Monday, February 11, 2013 10:11
Today, I am wearing my glasses and a two-tone shirt with the words “Rock U” with my favorite skinny jeans. My friend or should I say ex-friend, Hope, thinks we are friends again. I know she just wants to steal my boyfriend. She always gets what she wants, and when she doesn’t she goes into a violent and mean state of mind. I was almost late to school because of my arse of a brother. His name is Jake Johnson and he looks like a normal ginger he is about a foot taller maybe a little less. He goes to the high school and on Mondays they don’t need to be there til like 8:30 so I wake him up and he takes me…but today he felt the need to go through everything like shower even though he would still be super-early at his school. He makes me so mad, why can’t Ben come back? Ben is Jake’s twin and he went to live with his dad. If it wasn’t clear they are only my half-brothers. We are related by mom, not by dad. I don’t have any real siblings, but technically I have four brothers and one sister. It’s complicated. So, you already know about Ben and Jake Johnson, so here come my baby brothers, Jared and Blue Terence. They look the same with blonde hair and are short but then again they are only 4 and 5. We are not related whatsoever. My sister, Joyce Rider we have the same look she doesn’t have lilac on her eyes and her hair is wavy and blonde. We have the same dad, not the same mom. God, the way people treat me here is despicable. Everyone was like, stop playing games even though I was writing this the whole time. Sometimes, I want to stand up and punch most everyone. Including this arse’s name is Barry. Life would be so much easier if I were allowed to listen to music, make it, draw, and just do my art. Listening to Bulletproof Love by Pierce the Veil is lifting right now. The arse Barry just sneezed and everyone laughed that was so hilarious! Not, but like I care. I got a little more time to write this but I don’t have anything to say or remember. (/-\)
Wednesday, February 13, 2013 10:17
I feel awful today. I get cold easily, so I walk up to Jack and… “Hey Babe, could I borrow your jac…” He didn’t have it on. “Babe where is your jacket?” I inquire. “Well, I don’t have it.” He says sheepishly. “I can see that.” I then turn and see her wearing his jacket. Hope. Why was SHE wearing HIS jacket? “Jack? Why?” I say almost crying. “Well, you see she was wearing this tank top that the teacher was chewing her out for… so I lent her my jacket to cover up…and yeah” he says quietly. “Jack, she knows what she can and cannot wear to school. She set this up… just so you’d give her your jacket.” I say, a single tear streamed down my face. I wouldn’t let him see it. I plaster a smile with my signature slight dimple on my face and say “Forget it, let’s just go to Gym class.” I have the same shirt on I did in the first journal entry with my grey paint splatter pants, and the same green Uggs. I lift my bag over my shoulder and walk. I’m grateful that I founded this journal to write these in. I feel better after I write about it. (/-\)