Tears wetting paper, it doesn't happen often. So when it does, nothing's going well. It's all wrong. I'm not okay.
So why am I telling you all of this? Well, it isn't my fault you picked up my journal now is it? Read on, or don't. Not that I care.
Cold. Today there was this agonizing cold that made my hands quiver; cracked and bleeding, my hands aren't responding. It wasn't coming from the air around me. No snow, hail, rain, not even wind. But my heart, it made me feel as if I were being pressed into a crystallized coke can that someone had left in the freezer much too long. I feel like it's time for the can to explode outward. Who am I kidding, that just makes more of a mess doesn't it? As if it could get any worse.
The boy threw down his book. "Why am I here!?" His eyes were a forest fire; bloodshot, the red overtaking the gracious green which would regularly brighten someone's day. He thrust his pen into the wall, black ink erupting from it as the plastic shattered and the boy was sprayed with the debri. He began to wail a grisly sound and buried his face into his soft, tear soaked, pillow.
A phone ringing broke the sudden silence. "Hello?" he awaited an answer, "You won't get in trouble for calling?" his grumbly voice returned to the choked and teary mess it had been moments earlier as the girl attempted to sooth his strife. Then tears of trouble dried and laughter replaced the grumbles. "I Love you, goodnight."
Paper's dry, that was quick. So I guess everything is going well. Everything's fantastic. I'm going to be okay.
If you happened upon my Journal, I hope you made it this far. Please, read on. I'm sorry for the inconsistency in the color of ink, there was an... accident... Hehe ;)
Warmth. Love fills my heart. It gets better.
Love,
Me
thanks for reading!
here's a sunrise for you n_n
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