May 1st, 2015
Dear Diary,
Okay, cliché, I know I know I know.
I'm back in the mental hospital, but I've heard talk of me being moved to another, secreter hospital.
I don't know if "secreter" is a word but whatever. It is now.
You were on the bedside table, right where I had placed you after Niall gave you to me. The nurses are letting me write in you, to help "get my thoughts out." They told me they wouldn't read it.
Niall. Niall Niall Niall Niall.
I like him. More than like him. I'm not sure.
He's nice. He's awesome. He's cute.
He went through something way worse than what I did. I want to feel bad, but he got so mad when I felt sorry for him, and I can't say I blame him. I hate sympathy as well. He probably thinks I'm a hypocrite, claiming I hate sympathy and then sympathizing him.
He was famous, too. No wonder I recognized his name the first time we met.
I bet he cuts. Or used to cut. No one can go through what he went through and then not cut. Everyone in this building who went through some traumatic experience cuts.
Including me.
Ari
YOU ARE READING
Dear Diary
FanfictionIf you found a diary on a bench in a park with absolutely no one around, would you read it? Most people would, to try and find a name or something that they could use to return it to they owner. Other people might just be being nosy, but that's rude...
