The Letters and Diary of Brendan Birch

Entry 1

Slllssh
Clank

There, it's been sent. No going back.

I sighed as the mailbox slammed shut, reconsidering my actions. A slight panic settled within me, maybe I could stick my hand back in the mailbox to fish for my letter before a Pelipper came to pick it up?

No, that'd only make a fool of my father. "Neighborhood boy, Brendan Birch, found ruffling through mailbox!" I could only imagine the kind of radical headlines reporters would write. They're all too desperate in a small town like this.

Knowing my options were limited and all too risky, an exasperated breath escaped from my lips. Finally, my feet led me back home.
---
"3.15.15
I know. I promised myself not to write in this, but there's just something I need to get off my chest."
My hand gripped the pencil and I tried to use all my willpower to stop writing... No luck. The leather of the book on front of me looked new, I could only imagine how last minute a plan this was.

Moments earlier my father had given this to me, and it was undoubtedly his worst birthday gift yet.

This is topping the one time he was so busy I received nothing but an excuse from his assistant and a few pokedollars to buy candy from the store.

Reluctantly, the pencil began to etch words into the paper again.

"I sent a letter to May, but I'm afraid... Afraid maybe she'll think of it the wrong way. Like, I'm obsessed."
Why do I sound so damn dumb? Why would she even think that? I gripped the pencil even tighter, not knowing how to continue.

I just needed to let it out, to remind myself of all the times nobody seemed to be there for me. My mind recollected the scene that took place only moments ago...
---
"Hello, honey. Finally sent off that letter?" My mother greeted me as I entered the dining room. I merely nodded, looking up to an unfamiliar sight: dad was home as well.

He sat right next to mom as a sudden interest sparked in his eyes, "A letter? To whom?" He smiled almost innocent like, I wanted to scoff right at his patronizing grin.

"None of your busi-" I retorted swiftly, only to be cut off.

"Oh it's to that new girl, who was it?" I watched in panic as my mother struggled to remember May's name. I silently begged her not to, to just drop the subject and allow me to wallow in precincts of my room. "May, right?" My begging became cursing.

As if he couldn't be more interested, my father smiled wider. "Ohohoho! Seems my boy's got himself a lady friend, eh?"

The words hit hard, and obnoxiously. In the matter of a few seconds anger flared within me, craving to be released. Before anymore could be mentioned, the professor had approached me with a strange book in an outstretched hand. He stared sympathetically, gesturing for me to take it. "Huh?" I asked in disbelief, a little of the previous anger leaving me.

"Geehee, it's a diary!" He announced proudly, I just stared in shock. "Aw, don't tell me you forgot: it's your birthday!" Part of me questioned the gravity of his statement.

Multitudes of thoughts swirled throughout my mind. Where did he get the idea that this was a good gift..!? Sensing my growing bewilderment and irritation, the professor spoke again. "Listen son, I know I'm not home too often..."

My teeth gritted, Don't try to act like you know my problems.

"... But I hope you'll take advantage of this and let your emotions out in this book. You're going through a big change and-"

I'd had enough, I didn't need his talk, especially if it was leading to the talk. I snatched up the book, my gaze staring into it ferociously. Partially in hopes to set the item on fire with pure vexation. "Wow dad, thanks." I spat in a sarcastic tone, "Expect me to write in this..." There was a short pause. I could see the desperation on the professor's face. He knew he'd managed to make a mess of another milestone in my life, but there wasn't an undo button on this one. He needed to understand this, more than ever before. "Never." And with that I charged to my room, a head spinning jumble of emotions flowing through me. Embarrassment, anger, maybe even a hint of accomplishment, but... It wasn't much.

The professor tried to call out to me, though I couldn't care less.
---
All of which lead to this fatal moment. The open pages of the book I'd just swore to never touch welcomed me, and any resolve held from before was disintegrated.
"This is all because of my father, he thinks he can make up for everything he's missed with this? A diary?" The lead snapped, leaving a few pieces of black dust upon the paper. Instead of going for a sharpener, I reached for another writing utensil. I thought to write more, but only ended the entry. The words on this page could never catch up to the pace of my mind. "Whatever, this is dumb." My mind raced through other words that I could use instead, ones I could use for myself as well...

With overwhelming frustration, the cover of the book slammed forcefully on its pages. My hands raised to cradle my head, which was aching with intense fervor. I yearned to express everything inside me, for someone to understand, but nothing ever escaped the confines of my thoughts.

There were never the correct words, or the right people.