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 Dear Journal

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Gatsby
Level 7: Tube Sock
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Posts : 149
Join date : 2011-04-10
Age : 25
Location : Your closet

PostSubject: Dear Journal   Mon Jun 27, 2011 8:44 pm

*proof I'm running out of ideas*
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Dear Journal,
My name is Tom Jennings. It’s March 8th 2003 and currently 5:21PM. I just bought this journal from the store with some of the left over money from my paycheck at my low paying job as a cashier. It’s pretty nice. Not too elegant or fancy, but nothing cheap looking; like you got it from a dollar store. I like it. Now I have a way to record my thoughts and memories, without having to spend so much on more paint and a canvas. Mother made pork chops again, they were delicious. They were smothered with gravy with a generous side of potatoes and huge helping of mushrooms. So delicious! But I’m sure you don’t care about that anyways. I’m probably boring you. I really don’t have much to talk about. I’m too caught up with this television show. The premise is so stupid…but the show isn’t half bad. I can’t wait for school tomorrow, since we get out early. I guarantee that you’ll find me sleeping all day.
--
March 10th 2003
Hello Journal,
It’s Tom again. I’m not sure why I had to address that, since you know who I am. Today was a nice day. We got a new student from out of town. I think her name is Clara. She seems pretty nice and smart, which is sort of hard to come by here. We’re only in a few classes together. I’ll try to get the courage to talk to her tomorrow and see if she wants to hang out sometime. Let’s hope I don’t get choked up.
--
March 14th 2003
Dear Journal,
It’s 4AM and I’m so bored. I can’t seem to get Clara off my mind. It’s like a song that gets stuck in your head. It’s hard to drown it out. And now I can’t sleep because of it either. Maybe if I’m quiet, I can play my games without waking my parents. Yeah, that’s it. I just need to do something productive. That should do the trick. If I can’t sleep, I shouldn’t force myself to right?
--
March 16th 2003
Dear Journal,
Well I did it! I got the strength to ask Clara if she wants to hang out sometime, and she said yes! This is great! We have plans to check out the new skate park that opened over a few smoothies at 4:30PM. I’m pretty nervous though. I guess it’s just because I don’t know her yet. But I hope that changes.
--
Dear Journal,
It’s the day, March 19th 2003, our hang out day. And it went over really nicely. She’s so open about stuff, funny, smart and pretty trusting. Maybe I’m just way in over my head or somethin’, but I think I like her. I hope we can become better friends in time, and see where we go. I just hope it all goes accordingly. Right now, I’m starting to get side tracked. All I can focus on is the smell of dinner cooking. I smell strong spices in the air and lots of them. I guess dad went crazy this time. Let’s hope he doesn’t burn the house down.
---
April 6th 2003
Dear Journal,
Clara and I have been spending more and more time together. It’s great that we’re getting to know each other more. People at school are thinking we’re an item. I know she tells others we aren’t. But I’m tempted to tell others that we are, but to keep silent about it. I just beam with happiness and pride when I see people look at us. I guess it’s just being happy that my peers notice me. And maybe I’m slowly gaining respect for being friends with one of the smartest and hottest girls in school. In my little daydreams, the jocks stop giving me a hard time, and high five me. You know little dreams. Just silly little figments of the mind. A kid can have ‘em right? Maybe I should just stop while I’m ahead, since I’m probably just digging a grave for myself. But I can’t help it. I just hope that things look up and do go as I hope, for the sake of my stupid, little dreams.
---
April 20th 2003
Dear Journal,
I guess my dreaming finally paid off. Clara and I became official yesterday. Oh, it was quite marvelous! We went to the movies to see that new zombie movie, ‘Island of the Undead’, and then went to get some dinner at the restaurant by the theater. Because had so much time to kill, we decided to loiter around Falcon Hill, to watch the stars. It was so sudden and random, but I remember we held hands then just kissed. I think she pulled me into it. It was wicked. I felt like my stomach was going to pop out my mouth and fly away because of all the butterflies I had. I’ve never felt more alive! It’s just great to know I’ve finally found the one, and I can put all those thoughts behind me. I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces when I just plant one on her during biology class. I should IM her soon, I can’t keep her waiting too long. Sorry journal.
---
May 8th 2003
Dear Journal,
Sorry I neglected you again. I’ve just been so busy with school, work and Clara to do anything for myself really. We had a water main break, so I have today off. I might go over Clara’s later to meet her family. I can’t wait! Unless she’s going to be sleeping all day. I know I would be too with a day like today. But, I don’t know anymore. It just feels like a thing of the past. A fond memory now that we’re together. She did tell me something last night though, that I have to try to keep in mind. She said she signed up to be a camp counselor for some retreat over summer vacation. So I won’t be seeing her until late July or early August. It’s going to really kill me. But I hope we can stay in touch through phone calls or text messages. But I know it won’t be the same without her warm and loving embrace.
---
June 11th 2003
Dear Journal,
You wouldn’t believe this if I told you. Even I can’t believe it! My friend Oliver told me the funniest thing today at the bowling alley. He said that this guy…umm, Marvin Zimmerman I think his name is; has the hots for Clara. It doesn’t bother me, because I know a lot of people do. But I have her, so they can’t go further. Oliver added later that he’s working at the camp that Clara is too, and asked me if I’m worried. I laughed at him. Me? Worried!? Why the hell would I be worried? Clara is the most honest person I ever met. She’d never do that. What a jackass. I think he just made all that shit up to psyche me out. He’s just jealous. He’s always been jealous of me. Prick. He just wants Clara all to himself. But he’ll never have her. Never in a million years. The only way he’ll get her is over my dead body. Nothing will stand between the two of us. We’re just like Annabel Lee all over again. Not even death, god and his angels or their envy of us will separate us. When will they get it!? Anyways, Clara said she’s doing fine. She’s enjoying the sun and the kids are great. I can’t wait to see her pretty face again. I hope she doesn’t change too much.
---
June 13th 2003
Dear Journal,
Oliver is still trying to get to me about this Marvin kid. I think he just pulled some name out of his ass to scare me. But now, the weird thing is that everyone’s doing it. They’re spreading some crap around that Clara and this Marvin guy are a thing at camp. What a crock of shit, right? I keep telling these geeks day in and day out that Clara isn’t like that. She’d never cheat. I guess they’re so jealous of us that they have to make up rumors to ruin us. I swear the next person to say something about her, I SWEAR I’M GONNA-wait... I need to calm myself down before I burst a blood vessel. Maybe I’m just overreacting. I guess I’m just paranoid. Yeah, that’s it. Paranoia that’s all. She isn’t cheating. They’re just scaring me. I think I’m going to finish my water and take a nap with an ice pack or a damp cloth. I need to cool down bad.
---
June 28th 2003
Hello Journal,
It’s me again. It’s almost 2PM and I’m sitting on the side of the road. I just… I’m so… lost for words. I don’t know what to say or to think. I wanted to surprise Clara by showing up at the camp. When I went to find her, someone said I’d find her at the Cree cabin I think. When I got there, I didn’t see any campers in there. When I got in there, I still didn’t see anyone. But as I got deeper inside, I heard something coming from the back. I quietly made my way to the doorway, trying not to step on the squeaky floorboards. Inside, I saw two people making out. I couldn’t see their faces. I knocked to see if they could tell me if Clara was here. When they turned to me, I just stared blankly. It was some pimple-faced fuck on top of Clara.

She tried to run to me to explain what was going on. I just pushed her off of me and left. I should have listened to Oliver. I should have, but I didn’t. I’m such a damn idiot for wanting her so bad. She’s a goddamn cheater and I should have told her no. My mind is racing with so many thoughts and I’m flooded with so many emotions, that I don’t know what I’m feeling anymore. It’s like a numbing sensation now. I’m losing feeling everywhere. It’s working from my legs upward. It’s taking its toll on my torso. I feel like someone stabbed me in the heart with procaine. Now my arms. Now my neck. Now my face. Now my head. Now my brain. My stomach is doing back flips and I want to throw up and cry. This numbing sensation is killing me. My heart feels heavy. And there, POW! In an instant, I feel like I’m filled with anger and rage. How can she betray me like this, and ruin everything!? She ripped my heart out and dashed it into a thousand little pieces. I can see her now with this shit eating grin with that pimple faced fuck, just eating vicariously eating my heart on either a mountain of bullshit love letters, her lies or my lifeless body. I’ll make her pay for what she did. The two of them. She broke my heart, I’ll return the favor.
-
Dear Journal,
It’s almost 10PM now. I’m sitting at a McDonalds, enjoying a hamburger and a milkshake, waiting for my dad to come get me. The cashier was a little curious about my damp clothes, but ended up feeling a little bad when I told her a car splashed me on the way over. Anyways, I’m just relaxing now. The music is calming me and this milkshake is mending my spirits. It’s so thick and sweet, like the fresh strawberries I use to pick at my grandparents’ house on those beautiful summer days as a child. But it’s not as sweet as it used to be. Maybe it’s just this batch. Or maybe I’m getting old and my taste buds are changing. Or maybe it’s still the same, but I just haven’t savored something of this sweet magnitude in such a long time. But still even with that, the sweetness isn’t as strong as it once was. Not as sweet as fresh picked strawberries or sweet as straight cane sugar… or as Clara’s succulent flesh.

Oh god, how sweet it was. So mind numbingly nostalgic. Like my first time indulging on a generous helping of sweet pork from the restaurant, only better. Not too soft, and not too tough; just right. Like the perfect tender loin or steak, nice and juicy. I couldn’t stand that pimple faced fuck… too tough and rough. The only tenderness was within the bicep…and I’d assume in a certain member; but I have standards. But god… was it nice. I wish I had a grill and some dry rub. It would be so fantastic. Happy 4th of July to me! Ha-ha. Man, my mouth is watering. I have to stop talking about it, or else I’ll make myself hungrier. Oh, I think that’s dad’s car that’s pulling into the lot. I think this is it for tonight, journal. I got a busy day tomorrow. Good night!
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