Entry Eleven: October 7, 2011
I've just realized something, journal. When you're alone, you inevitably become lonely.
I've been getting weird looks lately, more than usual, and I know it's because my clothes have finally succumbed to the weather. They look worn and are ripped in places. I look like a homeless person, which suits me, I guess, because I am. I bet they think I found this journal lying on the sidewalk or something.
But back to loneliness. I haven't had a true conversation with a person in over two weeks. Sometimes I wonder if writing down all of this makes it better or worse. And as I write this, my hands shake. I'm cold, but more importantly, I'm scared and I'm alone.
Maybe I am glad I have you, journal. You're certainly better than nothing.
YOU ARE READING
Fall
RomantizmThis isn't a typical love story. I didn't meet some boy and fall in love at first sight. In fact, I didn't fall in love with a boy at all. Or a girl. Not even a house plant. My name is Thalia Walker, and I fell in love with the world.
