When Joran was younger, the rumour that he was poor, was unfortunate for him; only because it wasn't true. His family wasn't poor, even the thought of it made him wonder how things like this get around.
maybe it was because of a conversation someone overheard? Joran certainly hopes not, though, there would be a minimum chance of that happening.
It just bugged him to the point where he feels the need to run around and shout "it's a lie!", but, he would make a fool of himself (probably even get a flick to the head for being and idiot). The thought makes him over-think it; mentally slapping himself for it. "write down your thoughts, like- like a journal.." his mom would always tell him. he never really did write down what he was thinking each day; mainly because he thought it was a waste of time.
Eventually, his mom has bought him a few books to write in. Joran would shake his head and say "i don't wanna, it's boring." but his mom didn't apply to that.
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2014 05 07
Dear "journal",
I don't exactly know what to write. should i write what i'm thinking now? well, i'm thinking about cats. black ones. with blue eyes. are there black cats with blue eyes? that'd be cool. i'm also tired. but i don't wanna sleep. i have school tomorrow, too. we don't do much at school, just work and math and lots of other things that are confusing. my mom says its good to learn (it's tiring, too).
is this good enough for a journal entry? i'll just say it is.
Joran.
Journal entry #1.
Completed.
Joran sighs, dropping the pencil on his desk and leaning into his chair. He hopes writing on a piece of paper from day to day isn't too troubling, trying to think of what to say is already troubling enough.
He yawns, spreading his arms. it's almost 10:00, and he's re-reading what he's got in his new journal. Joran laughs a bit.
"I ask a lot of questions.." he whispers.
"that's because you're a curious child." says a voice behind him. Joran turns to face his bedroom door to find his mom leaning against the side of the frame.
She smiles.
"so, did you write anything yet?" Joran shrugs. "I guess.." she claps her hands lightly together, mouthing a little hooray!
Joran moves his chair to side, letting his mom -otherwise, known as Trisha- be able to read the paper.
Part of him wants to say "do I have to do more?" but, he already knows the answer to that.
"this is great, honey!" Trisha exclaims happily. He smiles and shrugs again, rising from his chair and onto his bed.
"is this going to seriously be a daily thing?" Joran asks.
Trisha smiles once more and lays a hand on Joran's head, brushing at his blond hair. "I hope so," she says "i'd just like to see what you're thinking."
"isn't that an invasion of privacy?" Trisha laughs and tilts her head slightly to the side, "I suppose."
"anyways," she continues, "it's time to get some rest, alright? goodnight" the light turns off and the door closes.
"goodnight.."
