Dear Diary?
First and foremost, I apologize for the sloppy writing. Broken hands are not easy to write with. Also, why are casts so heavy wtf?
It's been a little since I've written in here, so I have a lot to catch you up on. I made some friends, surprisingly enough. Well, more like one friend, but I'd like to count it as two.
Her name is Lauren. I bumped into her at school a few days ago, and she is the first person since James who has been nice to me. I mean, she could just be pretending, but I'm gonna try and stay positive for once in my life and believe that she's not.
But the other person is the one who I really want to talk about: Brad, a.k.a the boy with the cigarette.
I saw him the day I met Lauren. Well, I smelled him first, but you can't really say that without coming across as weird.
He is, to be blunt, on of the most beautiful people I think I have ever seen. He has brown eyes that look like melted chocolate, these brown curls that I really want to run my hands through, and dimples... JESUS HIS DIMPLES.
He also protected me from Connor and Levi, so that's something. He straight up punched Connor across the face AND had him lifted against a wall so he must be hella strong. I want to be close to him, even if it means being his friend, and I think Lauren can get me there. She seemed like just his type. Cool, attractive, female...
I wish everyone could be open and not care so people could just be comfortable with who they are. I don't know what the big issue is if a man wants to kiss another man. I get religion and that people are raised differently, but it's just dumb.
I also know that I can't change the world. Me by myself can't change anything.
But I can try.
I looked down at what I had written, surprised. I had never seen anything related to myself seem so hopeful in a very long time. James was probably the last time.
James had changed my life for the better. He was always there for me no matter what I did. I wish he was still here, but I knew I couldn't have influenced his decision to leave. I don't try to think about James much, but sometimes it just happens. It starts and doesn't stop until my mind finds something else to think about.
I heard noises downstairs, more than likely from my step-dad. I moved from my desk to my bed, stopping when I passed my mirror. I stepped back so I was looking into the glass, my own face staring back.
Only it looked nothing like me.
What I saw was a sad, beaten, bruised. Frankly it didn't look very human. I had an ugly, purple spot that stretched from around my eye to the bottom of my cheek. My eyebrow had been split. I lifted up my shirt only to see more bruises. Big, dark, ugly ones. Not to mention I had a heavy cast on. I could feel my frown digging itself deeper into my cheeks.
I was probably the only kid who looked forward to going to school. School beat my house any day. I had a friend at school, a friend who cared about me.
All I had here was a pile of bruises and a memory of one.
*
This is short sorry. I thought that was okay in this case because I like this chapter. But the whole 'no school, more writing' thing kinda fell apart too. Yikes.
But I'm gonna try to write more chapters soon, because I can see that some people are enjoying this book. And you liking my writing makes me happy.
(Also I have other stories in the works, so I would hope you would read those too!)
Give me a follow if you like this book!
That's right. I did just shout myself out. And now I am returning to my home in the trash can.
