Dear Diary,
I'm home. I never thought that I would be able to feel so much sadness from simply being home...
This doesn't feel like my room any more...
This doesn't feel like my basement any more...
I don't feel right when is it on the couch and watch TV, or when I cook any thing in the kitchen...
The bathroom feels smaller.. The hallway feels longer... The stairs are steeper...
And the stoop outside makes me feel like I might start crying again...
I walked past my shed today, and I remembered hiding in it... Sitting... Struggling to open a utility knife...
Giving up and crying.. Lying to hurt you...
I didn't really do it you know... I couldn't open it... To physically pry it apart would have been too hard for me... And even if I could, I couldn't bring myself to do it..
I sat in the dark and cried silently instead...
Life is cruel... Love breaks people... Pain makes people...
Thinking back, I shouldn't have lied to him... And I shouldn't have hurt him...
Judge me how you see fit, god or whoever/whatever higher up being you are... I made a choice... I will pay the price... And if he chooses to not talk to me again, then so be it...
YOU ARE READING
Dear Diary...
Non-FictionThis is my diary. Interpret as you will. Before you read on, you must know that some of the entries will be light and fluffy, but some will be very very dark... The only reason I am making this is so that I can vent free of judgment. I wrote two sto...
