lost

entry: three

date: 5/18

                i misplaced my fucking journal. i misplaced it, and i made myself commit to write to you every day in this thing, but i misplaced it and i just now found it. it was outside. it was under the slide from that beat-up, rusty swing set we used to go on together as kids.

                what else am i going to misplace? what else do i got to lose?

                it didn’t feel the same writing to you in anything other than this. my words to you seem safer than on any foreign piece of paper that isn’t locked and kept away from wondering eyes other than mine.

                i’m going to keep this journal underneath my pillow from now on, maybe it’ll deliver sweet dreams. because these nightmares are filling my head with images that i do not wish to write about.

                it’s been a week.

                i don’t want to lose you, too.