𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 [OLD/ORIGINAL]

𝗍𝖺𝗉𝖾 #1: 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗈/𝖺𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖾: 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖤𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋.

12:30 PM

I recently found this journal in a nearby market on the opposite side of the street. I might as well keep it in case I needed to express myself without opening my mouth.

But I'm not feeling well right now. And if my head would stop throbbing, I'd be able to explain why. But I'm making an effort. It's also cold outside. Many memories have just flashed through my mind, and I can't help but stop and stare at the ground that bears my stains. There are so many things I would do to be the happiest man ever. In the future, I might do something. But here I am, still in school, fighting for my life. That most likely sounded bad. 

If Mom was here, she'd look at me. Consider her face rigid and calm, her empty eyes staring down at me. If she did that, I'd always turn away. We stand there for a while until she sat down on the couch. She would tell me to go to my room. Now she would walk away. I'm not sure why I'm bringing her up; she's probably having the time of her life without me.

Every person I see has a mark on their face in my mind. Their tone of voice... I couldn't make anything out. If I trip and fall, everyone will look at me. It irks me. At all.

The piercing stares that glow disappointment.

Anyway, after discovering this, I found myself sitting on a bench in the middle of a cul-de-sac. I intend to keep it once I find a place to live. Sure, my apartment is the best option...but I don't want to see them again. After what they did to me...

I'm certain that I'll be alone for the rest of my life...and if I could, I'd try. My body is in excruciating pain. Those guys really fucked me up. Thank God for bandages, even if they fall off all the time.

...I'm sorry for my language. I think this is all I can write for today so maybe I'll come back if anything happens. 

Til we meet again,

- Jack.