~Her words were my poison. I used them to consume myself.
Disturbingly honest. Painfully strained. Carefully penned down. Dangerously addictive.~
A journal that landed in the right hands and told a whole story with words, no lips could speak.
Two...
I was looking for an answer. An answer for why I was having quite possibly the worst day in a very long time, lest I say forever.
Some part of me was convinced that this was the doing of that journal. That poisoned being. I was almost certain that she was a ghost by this point. I don't mean something like an actual ghost out of a horror movie. I mean a person who had a dead soul.
That's what I would call a ghost.
Unfortunately I had no proof that it was the journal messing with my head so I have to give this one to bad luck.
I had my last class after this. After this awful walk through the corridors. Somewhere in that crowded corridor, she was there, probably watching me as I held that journal. Smiling at her handy work.
Oh she pissed me off.
Her extended paranoia was pathetic. Either it was paranoia or it was foresight. Most likely paranoia. Now, usually I wouldn't arrive at such a conclusion just by reading eight pages of a book but she was something else. I recalled the first time I flipped the pages of that journal and gave her full control.
If you're reading this, I was right in my assumptions. I am careless. Now you're probably wondering why I addressed my journal to someone, I have a perfectly suitable answer for that; I predicted this.
No, I cannot see the future I just knew I'd leave my baby behind someday and as life would have it someone would find it. And this is better than saying dear diary. Dear reader. I like how that sounds when I say it in my head.
Now I must warn you that this journal may get pretty graphic at some point. But what I can assure you is that my thoughts will probably never fail to fascinate you. At least I like to think of myself as some sort of deep, philosophical being with the power to change the way others think but my opinion doesn't really matter, I figured.
For convenience sake, for all the entries that include people I know, I will be changing their names. I can't have you finding out who I am now can I? It's probably not so convenient for me as I will have to think of names for everyone, but I suppose that's the least I can do.
If you ever found out who I am, it would be too much of explaining to do and I'm not ready for that. I hope you understand my situation here.
In case you're wondering, I'm a girl. Love, yours truly.
I didn't know what I was doing going through someone's journal. It's like having a conversation with the pages of the journal. A very long, one sided conversation. Like a rant with pauses at short intervals. But as of now, it was the only thing I could blame for such a fucking pathetic day.
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