#journal entry one

[heaven-mourned]

I could literally just... start over. I can get in my car and drive as far as I can. I can get a job in a different state and move there. I can struggle and fight but be free. I could take the few animals that are actually mine under my care and leave. The thought of them being happier while not having an actual home but being with me, who doesn't berate or yell or shoot them with a bb gun just for yowling when they haven't been fed, it's...

I could go to Tennessee. I could go to my hometown, live with my father or my aunts or uncles and be happy there. Sure, my father has a... family, I have a younger brother who doesn't know me, but... I miss my father. I miss the trips we'd take to see him, even if they were at my request because my younger brother was too young to really... care.

I could leave. But... I can't. Not really. Not when there are animals to take care of and a younger brother to watch and a sink full of dishes to do.

When I was younger, about mid-way through the catastrophe that was the divorce, I was friends with a girl. She was the only girl out of her two siblings. The middle child, too. We... had a lot more in common than I realized at the time. I snuck out of my trailer to go hang out with her in the dead of night, we'd sit in the ditch by the highway and rant and rave about all of the things two middle schoolers had to deal with- well.. the unfairness of what we were going through. Only daughters. Middle children. Responsibilities that kept piling, and piling, and piling up.

She had it worse than me, I think. Sure, my parents were mid-way through fighting and I'd have to chase after my dad for him to talk through his emotions and... tell his barely ten year old daughter about how much my mother frustrates him but! She, my friend, had... so many more lives on her shoulders. I never saw her dad, but I knew her mother and grandmother well. I knew they loved animals. I knew they had already started their own mini-farm in the backyard. I knew there was a weight on her daughter's shoulders as she showed me the new chicks they got, hatched from older hens. I could tell by her sighing when she showed me the ducks, as she explained on and on about how snakes had recently gotten into the pen, and how sad it was when she'd found a dead chicken that morning.

We went inside and watched tv afterwards.

I could leave, for my own sanity, but even then I'd be lost. Free, I guess, but lost. I wonder where she is now? I got ripped away from her, just as I had my hometown.

I never got to keep in touch.

[looverrboii]

oct. 01

i’m not doing well. i’ve been on a downward spiral for months, maybe even years now and i feel like i’m drowning. every day i struggle to wake up and start my day. i struggle to not shut my phone off and go ghost on every person in my life. i struggle with these terrible intrusive thoughts that tell me how horrible i am. tell me how much every single person in my life hates me. struggle with not hurting myself or worse. i struggle with keeping the mask up, pretending like i’m doing better than i actually am. struggle with not ending it all because that is starting to feel so much easier than getting up and repeating the same routine over and over. day after day. again and again.

its not like i don’t have anything to look forward to, or plans for my future. but at this point in time i couldn’t care less. why should the future matter when i can barely survive the present?

every day i go home to an empty apartment. all my friends have their special person, and for those don’t, they have friends they care about more than me. i’m the background character. the one no one really notices when they’re missing, the side character even in my own story. would anyone notice if i disappeared? would anyone even care?

[atlas-shigaraki]

1/27/21

I don’t know how to start of in this stupid journal but Shigi told me that I should start journaling my feelings or some shit instead of taking it out on random objects and people. I don’t get why he makes me write these stupid problems down or anything else, I’m a villain. I’m supposed to take my anger out on the world, eh who cares right? Well I UA today, I hate it.. Like all these heroes wannabe. What’s up with them???? Plus ultra shit, mockery of the greatest villains. Tomura wanted me to go for some reason tho like get the details on All Might, he does nothing. Except burst through doors screaming “I am here” like bish we know we have eyeballs. Learning about hero things is boring I want to learn about villains and destroy the world, bring down All Might with Tomura. Honestly I’m kind of being dramatic about UA, it’s not that bad. There is this one guy, named Izuku Midoriya. He’s cute.. Whoa whoa whoa Atlas Shigaraki what the hell are you saying?! I can’t think this way of a All Might wannabe!! That’s bad very bad, if Shigi finds out he’ll decay me!!

~Atlas

[theinvinciblestellariver]

There were a lot of things my mother asked me to do when the big cogwheel of a door rolled out of the way to release us into whatever horrors awaited us in Appalachia. Of all of them, I feel like this one was the most important. “Keep a journal, Stella.” Her voice was so quiet then, compared to the vibrant, booming tone she had before the sickness took hold. “Write down everything, no matter how trivial. Keep track of your steps, your thoughts, your knowledge.” Right, that’s important if we’re rebuilding America, right mom? She had laughed meekly. “No, darling. It’s important so that you not only survive, but thrive.” 

That was always her command. Thrive. I guess she couldn’t stand to think that I was going to step into the post-apocalypse just barely surviving off of scraps of squirrels in some cave in the mountains. She wanted me to build mansions, to be a queen, to rule the Wasteland as she had once ruled the Underground. She couldn’t imagine her little girl, the five-year-old child she dragged quite literally kicking and screaming into the actual underground, to emerge nothing more than a pauper. 

She was so prideful. Guess I know where I got it from. 

When she died, the burial was so humble. I actually got -angry- about it. Overseer had to have me locked up for days, just so that I would stop screaming. I was told later than my hysterics were audible through the whole Vault - gave Vault Baby One nightmares for a week. Funny to think that a proper burial was the most important thing to me at thirteen. Though, I’d like to think that she would have been beaming at such a reaction. 

You taught me well, mother. 

Regardless. This leather-bound notebook was my inheritance, and with it, I’ll do as she asked. Tomorrow, the Vault door will roll away. (Is it sacrilegious to liken that door to the bolder that let Jesus out of the tomb? Feels like it.) Tomorrow, we will be free - weaponless and barely equipped - to roam the hills of Appalachia, make contact with the new “locals”, and establish the beginning of our new America. 

But, for tonight? Tonight, we party. 

What good is saving the world if we can’t enjoy it? 

--SHR

[twiceasgreen-blog]

Thursday, August 10th 1:24 pm Written while doing my hair in the Econo Inn bathroom 💇🏼💅🏻🤳🏻 Coming to terms with ironic mediocrity of this situation is difficult when all your life you were raised to believe in the lie told to us all as five year olds ✖️ "You can do anything in the world, You're special, one of a kind" ✖️ It's bullshit, and we all know it. We tell this lie to our children and they tell it to theirs, and so on. This lie, like many was not created to harm or destroy , but to uplift and cushion us with false confidence. It's a lie made for our kids to believe in, like Santa Clause. 🎅🏻 Until one day Santa doesn't seem as magical✨ as he once was, now he's starting to look like a simple fat man in a suit and beard, and the idea of delivering presents to all the worlds children just doesn't seem possible, in the end undeniable and universal LOGIC kills all our childhood dreams, the claws of reality always scratch when we least expect, and it's grasp is inescapable no matter how fast we try to run from it

[freespirted-magpie]

Hi baby

Dear Diary,

I guess that is how you start these things, right? I am not exactly the type of person to do this, but my sister Ciara suggested it. She did it with my niece and said I should do it with Cecelia too as a good memento. So this is going to be the journey of my one and only; Cecelia Hazel Olsen.

I was nineteen when I got married.to my childhood sweetheart, Carter Olsen. I was in a relationship with him since I was thirteen years old.At the age of twenty, I found out I was going to become a mother. Me, the very same girl who was more focused on softball and finishing up Medical Administration, then caring about what brand of diapers and wipe would be gentle for a baby. The young woman who wanted to continue to monopolize her free time with her husband love and attention, instead of sharing it with a little person. I was more afraid of what Carter would say or think, it drove me nuts when I waited for him to come home–

My wrist is hurting. So scratch everything! Next entry will be about the first time I was ever really scared of what was going to happpen.

[mtvsthatgirl-blog]

Journal Entry One

Writing Prompt: What is the biggest barrier for writing honestly in your entries?

I have a clear answer to this question. I have been writing in a journal my entire life. It had been my escape and way to talk and allow feelings out when I had no one to talk to. Probably a little over a year ago I redid my room. When I did this I left my journal out in my dinning room. 

I would see it day after day and think, “I should really put that away.” but then I would thinking, “No. Who is going to read it?” I kept having this feeling that I should put it away, but I just kept putting it off and putting it off. 

I wish I never did that. 

I came home from school one day and my found out my parents had read it. They claimed that my mom was cleaning and it fell to the floor, but how knows if that actually happened. 

They read everything. I felt so exposed and violated. I never wanted them to find that journal. It held someone of my deepest secrets. Things no one knew about. Not even my best friends that I tell everything to. 

For the longest time I would not dare write anything, or even touch the book. I was disgusted with my parents, but more importantly me. The things I wrote were awful. This was not why I was disgusted. It was because I didn’t regret these feelings and still to this day have the same ones. I don’t think those feelings will ever go away. 

This is why I can never be truly truthful in my writing.

[jfc-eriik-blog]

TASK #002: INSIDE THE MIND

Dear Journal, 

Journal One: So I guess this is a thing still? Man I haven’t wrote one of these since I was like ten & going through teenage hormonal issues in high school & that was all in freakin german. anyways unsurprisingly I’m writing here because its been set as a task for us. I’m guessing I talk about me a little, my opinions on this place & all that so here I go. 

The people are alright, even the one’s who I don’t enjoy being in company with so much are bearable & you can at least hold a decent conversation with them, even laugh a little. I mean there isn’t anyone who massively stands out to me at the moment? Sawyer seems nice I’d like to be closer to him & Emilia is a sweetheart, I like being around her, things feel easy with her & more open. 

The camp itself is sweet I guess, I mean for a camp it has nice space within it & the beds are comfy I don’t get the complaints, I have had way worse trust me when I say Germany are not known for their quality nights sleep in an A class bed, these would top my bed back there any time. I do wonder why the bathroom in the cabin is like bigger than anything? Is it like a silent way of saying if you’re gonna hook up do it here in privacy & safety, please & thanks? Its interesting all the same & amuses me but it looks comfy

In fact I think I’ll go hop in there now, Check back in soon for the second entry journal thing.