Dear diary,
Hi. Am new to this, and so are you. After all you're new. *Sighs* Lame joke. I know. I am horrible. At everything; living, making friends, being nice, holding back my temper, even how I look. All alone I have redefined pathetic.
I fought with my dad, again. And yes, it was about church, yet again. I don't want to go to church every Sunday. Or have to attend evening fellowship every Tuesdays and Thursdays. I just want to stay in and do something fun. Like eat till I explode. Or listen to loud music till I go deaf. Or watch sad movies and laugh at the stupidity of it all, again who am I kidding. I would probably end up crying myself to sleep, or not sleep at all.
Am scared of sleeping. I get the worst nightmares night after night back to back until I wake myself up with my screaming. Yet, I cannot stay awake all night either. If I do, I get this numbing fear creep up my spine. And all I can hear or see is scaring things everywhere. The last time I had a panic attack and had to be rushed to the hospital.
My father thinks am possessed. So does people from church. They shun me like the plague as if breathing the same air as me would kill them. Yet my dad insists I should go to their meetings. If not to get healed, so that I can 'see the light'.
I don't believe in God. Oh please, who am I kidding? I do believe in God. But I also hate Him. He made me this way. He took everything from me and left me to die slowly of the pain. And am supposed to look up to him for help. Why would I?
Don't get me wrong. Once I was happy and hopeful. I dreamt, of good things and better tomorrows. Yet, there is only so much one fragile heart can take. Only so much crushing one heart can endure until all hope is broken. I reached my breaking point. And it was not a pretty sound to hear my own heart shatter into nothingness. Now all I hear is pain and sadness.
Enough sad talk. I think I will come up with a game for you and me. I will give you a new name every time I put in a new entry.
And your first name is:
✴️✴️✴️
🐼🐼
Olive.
Regards,
Mill.
YOU ARE READING
My diary.
SpiritualThis is a story about me. Am Mill. Am sad. Am lonely. Am trying to work things out. With not so much luck. There is this cult looming over my life. It has stolen my father from me and I am ready to do anything to get him back.
