Dear Diary,
There's a point in your life that you think everything is good and you're finally how you always wanted to be.
But then you listen to one song and heaviness comes back. The lump in your throat makes it hard for you to breathe.
I have no reason to be sad. I have him. I have friends. I have family. I have me. Why am I sad?
Why am I crying?
Isn't life supposed to be better after a while? After you figure things out?
Actually I don't have anything figured out because the more I think about it I get more confused. What is there to fix? What is there to heal?
Has everything left me this shattered? Can I ever put my pieces back together?
Can I ever spend a day without thinking so damn much?
I'm twenty two. Why am I worse than when I was a fucking teenager? Wasn't that supposed to be a phase? Wasn't that what everyone called it?
I can never cope with this. I talk to Harry sometimes until I fall sleep but even he's not here right now. He went back to pack.
Why am I shaking? Why did I buy the razors?
YOU ARE READING
Dear Diary, // L.S
General Fiction[𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒅] "Goodbyes hurt when the story is not finished and the book has been closed forever." No one listens to him so he pours his heart out in a diary. ~ short-ish story !!!Trigger warnings in the prologue!!!
