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Log #1- 1/25/21, 10:49pm.

     I can't sleep. I should've been asleep an hour ago. But thoughts, thoughts make me cry. The smallest of details will make me burst into tears. I haven't cried in a year. Almost two. I never show my emotions in the real world, and I never will. Society would shame me. Everyone says I'm so kind, but deep down I know they're almost always lying. For the first time in my life, I had the one thought. The though that everyone knows, or, everyone that is going through the same thing I am. Would they care if I was gone?. That single thought, sent me into a barreling fit of tears. I cried for a straight hour, over grades. I know most people have it worse than me. And I shouldn't cry.

    Crying is for the weak ones of society, I need to make them proud. Every little word matters to me. Every letter. I'm known as the 'Group Therapist' to most. What would they think if I told them I wasn't okay? That I wasn't who I was made out to be? Melatonin isn't helping. So much for that. Sleep paralysis is already setting in, well. I guess that sleep isn't an option tonight. It's raining, I love the rain. The peaceful pitter patter of the raindrops on the windows would lull me to sleep almost every time. But this time, this time was different. Tears were the only pitter patter sound that I could hear. I could barely breath, I love everyone......but myself.

    I feel as if I could spill my guts into this one book, just for the hell of it. What good would that do me? I'm in a spiral that's heading downhill and it won't stop. Constant reprimanding, it chips away at my will every day. I feel like I can't be good enough for them. I love them, but do they feel the same? I can't agree with the way the world is, I never will. Rules aren't meant to be broken, follow the book, and you won't get off on a rook. I wonder who's reading this. Some random teenager 100 years in the future finding this pitiful book. Me, spilling my guts while they, just read out of boredom while music continues to blast into their ears before they toss it away. Litterers.

    Who knows if I'll be back, maybe, maybe not. It's 11:12 now. Time, I've come to learn there's never enough of it. Well, I may as well try and lay here to get some form of rest. Like it'll work anyways. At least I stopped crying, and I can breath. What a shocker. I see why some people call me Donatello, well, not really. Wow, I'm already in a better mood. I might just be back here sooner than I thought. Unless I lose this book in which case, I'm a dumbass.  Nothing new. I can hardly see, darn glasses. Where in the heck are they? Great, I've now lost my one and only way of seeing. Go me.

                                                        S. Anonymous~

         -Entry Finished