Story cover for My secret (Discontinued) by Elleindahouse2
My secret (Discontinued)
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    Reads 82
  • WpVote
    Votes 2
  • WpPart
    Parts 3
  • WpHistory
    Time 16m
Complete, First published Jul 27, 2019
Mature
WARNING - Swear words and LGBT insults that may hurt others. This is because of some characters in my story, I am not trying to be mean to LGBT people and others. (I'm bisexual myself) 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Why I'm writing in this stupid journal after six years of it being in a box I really don't know. But hello, I'm Jake, I am diagnosed with clinical depression and Social anxiety. When I was younger I was a happy kid. Like many others I loved going outside and climbing trees and going on adventures, but that all changed when I suddenly started to hear people thoughts and feelings. 

I finally started to know what my parents really thought of me and how they would put me up for adoption that day. And so I was, I went through many broken families and drunk, drugged parents which didn't really help the fact that I was starting to develop my depression. At the end of all of that I was given to two young adults, most likely in their early thirties. 

They seemed generally kind and calm which was a surprise to me as I don't have a good fair share of 'nice' parents but they really cared for me. They knew there was something wrong with me, I could hear it in their thoughts, they weren't bad about it, they were only worried about me and so I was taken to a doctor soon after. 

That's when I was diagnosed with my clinical depression and social anxiety. No ones ever found out about my secret. Until I met a boy, Sam, kind and thoughtful, oh and did I mention sexy? He's the most perfect man ever existed! Oh I forgot to mention I'm bisexual. Not that that's the only thing about me though!
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Echo of the Past

30 parts Complete Mature

A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.