Buried under the emotional weight of her memories, Ryan relives them again... all the best parts of their story, but this time, from her perspective.
By the time, he realizes certain things, he finds out that it's too late to get her back again...
*...
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I opened the journal. Some of the pages... were torn out.
Maybe she only kept the pages she wanted me to read.
I sighed as the words on the first page stared at me. 'I love you, Ryan, forever!' was written in bold. A stray tear flowed down my cheek as I read those words.
She really loved me, I thought. But she had hurt me too. I was heartbroken too, wasn't I?
I flipped to the next page and started reading...
17th August 2016 11:25 pm
Dear diary,
I wonder why mom told me that high school is for studying and education. Because ever since I was here, they had only given me to work without payment. Work, as in projects, assignments, class diaries, and other documents, which even the teachers can't remember the names of.
Damn! I feel so exhausted for them. At night, I need to be awake for the projects, and during breaks from classes, I have to keep my assignments completed.
Wow! Just Wow! I am sure these school authorities had secretly paid our parents to send us to school for useless labor.
Well, enough of my ranting. Today we have no work (which I find so hard to believe). So I guess I should sleep on time- unless I get a call from a certain someone about a very "surprising" project that might have as well fallen from nowhere...
Ah! I am so annoying. Anyways, goodnight!
Caroline
I smiled with tears as I read through her ranting about high school. I remembered how she used to walk around like a living zombie until she saw me. She would come running to me and empty up her stomach full of rants about this teacher and that teacher.
I miss that, I really do...
I turned the page to her next entry. And my eyes tearfully took in the view of that page.
There were small red hearts and pretty butterflies drawn on the top as a border.
She used to draw quite well and she even made a portrait of us once, taking help from one of our pictures. I don't have it with me anymore though; I felt guilty again as the memory of me throwing that picture on her face came to my mind.
Why did I even do that?
I promised to never hurt her, didn't I?
My heart skipped a beat as I realized what the title of the entry said.
