June 11th, 2066

22 11 9

Nothing but blue in all directions.

I'm not sure what to write about, and honestly I'd rather watch the waves than write in this thing, even if journal writing is important.

Guess I'll come up with some sort of memory.

I remember being exceptionally good at guitar. I was even in a band. The band fell apart after I dated the lead singer, then it was just me and the backup singer, then just me, and then... It was gone.

Sucky memory, I know.

One day, I picked up a guitar and couldn't play, anymore. That was one of the worst moments of my disease.

This is why I didn't want to write random memories. I always remember the worst things. I was having such a nice day, too.


The Imperfect's Journal: 1Read this story for FREE!