07/02/2026 – Exposition On The Present
I've kept two journals in my life.
The first one I had was given to me from one of my old caretakers (possibly one of the few good experiences I had with them) because of a suggestion from the guiding councilor of my old school regarding my behavior. By all means; it was done out of obligation, and I didn't bother with the thing for a while until things at home and school started going downhill. I don't want to get into detail of what happened but in short: my journal was thrown away after they found it, and I got a nasty beating that left me sore for a few days. Really speaks about how people are when others acknowledge how awful they are.
My second journal was a present from my sister; she had been saving up all of her allowance to get it for me after my old one got trashed. Wasn't anything fancy: soft covered, decent amount of pages, paper quality was pretty nice for its price, but it was something Evelyn had sacrificed part of herself for me. I couldn't hold back the tears.
I hid it inside a shoebox inside my closet and always brought it with me to school. I always rambled on about what happened that day like you would a drinking buddy: life, your experiences, people, everything. I still wonder if it's still in that shoebox when I ran away. Chances are that it either got thrown away, or they decided to donate my furniture, and someone is just out there reading my mind. Honestly, I kinda hope it's the latter.
And this, the one I'm writing in right now, is my third journal. I don't really know how to start it (even though I've been here talking about the other two) but it's always hard trying to start something new. You always tend to bring up the old to get somewhere, not realizing that it's dragging you down.
I guess I'll just talk about how I feel today: absolutely shitty. There's a monstrous amount of paperwork in my office, and I frankly don't have the time or patience for it. I wish I got someone to help me with, but the only people I can go to is either hospitalized, a pathological liar, a pretentious witch doctor, or God. Fucking hell.
Took my meds and felt dizzy for a good while; it's been a while since I've had them. I don't really know what to add here. I'll probably have to consult medical about my dosage though (and quick. I'd rather not talk to them about my feelings.)
And that's it, I guess. I don't know when I'll write again. Probably soon after the interview with the "Stalker Mailbox" that I'll be having in a few days. Haven't been briefed about them yet. But something tells me it'll be a ride.
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