Status: Updating!
Hidden Thoughts
Scarlett Simons
August 26
My fingers trail upon the edge of my brand new Moleskine notebook. It was perfect. Amazing. What other words could I use to describe it? Well, that I am uncertain of.
As I write this in my new notebook, I can't help but feel the sense that somebody might be reading this someday. So, I decide to write a DEATH NOTE.
WHOEVER IS READING THIS RIGHT NOW, I AM HOPING YOU'D STAY OUT. OR ELSE THIS NOTEBOOK WILL SELF DESCTRUCT IN FIFTEEN MINUTES.
There, I have written it in the first page. Now nobody would want to read it. My fingers impatiently drum on my table, as I continue to write this.
A soft knock comes from my bedroom door; and I immediately shut this notebook.[Just so I would remember; I would have to remind myself that I am writing this as if it is happening right now.]
"Scarlett, honey, it's time for dinner," My mother's head pops into the room. Her golden blond hair smoothly follows her movement. I would simply just kill to have my mother's hair. But instead, I'm not the one who inherited it. My measely sick reason for a brother inherited it. And, I had to stick with hair that poofs out everytime I try to brush it straight. It was caramel colored [really dark caramel shade], and it always seemed unruly.
"Alright, I'd be right down," I tell her as I walk towards my bathroom, with this notebook still intact with my pen.
I never really understand why people like writing in diaries, journals, etc. It seems like a waste of time. But then I found out that it was actually good for recording every happy or sad moment in a person's life.
Another knock errupts from my door.
"Time for dinner!" My brother shreiks.
That's the siren call. If I don't go out in fifteen seconds, they're gonna have to drag me out of here.
So, for the meantime, goodnight.
~
I'm back! Isn't that great? I couldn't go to bed without writing what happened this day.
My mom cooked dinner, and as always, dad wasn't there. His seat was empty, and dust was starting to form since the last time he sat there.
My brother, the little four-year old that he is, can't help but wonder where his father is. "Where's dad?" He asks. His words were starting the become clearer and clearer everyday. And his speech was improving rapidly.
"I don't know sweetie," Mom murmurs, as she looks down to the ground. I know that she didn't want to talk about dad not being home all the time, and they would always fight about it.
"Just eat your food, Greg," I tell my brother, and he just nods at me.
And I can't help but wonder either why dad never IS home. It makes me feel sick to my stomach whenever I think about it.
So I would need to keep my mind off him. Or my family situation right now.
Rainbows.
Unicorns.
Okay, wait. Unicorns aren't real! Cross that out.
Oreos.
Lavander.
Roses.
Tootsie pop.
Tootsie pops! I remember back then, when dad would always bring home Tootsie pops!
This isn't working. I can't stop thinking about the fact that maybe--
Okay, I should stop thinking, and GET TO BED.
Goodnight.
~
Wait! I forgot to write about today! And what happened.
Dang.
I feel too sleepy to write about it. So I'd try to write about it tomorrow!
Once more, Goodnight. And that's the last time I'm going to write that down today.
It's 9:45. WAY past my bedtime. So, I'd better hit the hay!
~
My fingers trail upon the edge of my brand new Moleskine notebook. It was perfect. Amazing. What other words could I use to describe it? Well, that I am uncertain of.
As I write this in my new notebook, I can't help but feel the sense that somebody might be reading this someday. So, I decide to write a DEATH NOTE.
WHOEVER IS READING THIS RIGHT NOW, I AM HOPING YOU'D STAY OUT. OR ELSE THIS NOTEBOOK WILL SELF DESCTRUCT IN FIFTEEN MINUTES.
There, I have written it in the first page. Now nobody would want to read it. My fingers impatiently drum on my table, as I continue to write this.
A soft knock comes from my bedroom door; and I immediately shut this notebook.[Just so I would remember; I would have to remind myself that I am writing this as if it is happening right now.]
"Scarlett, honey, it's time for dinner," My mother's head pops into the room. Her golden blond hair smoothly follows her movement. I would simply just kill to have my mother's hair. But instead, I'm not the one who inherited it. My measely sick reason for a brother inherited it. And, I had to stick with hair that poofs out everytime I try to brush it straight. It was caramel colored [really dark caramel shade], and it always seemed unruly.
"Alright, I'd be right down," I tell her as I walk towards my bathroom, with this notebook still intact with my pen.
I never really understand why people like writing in diaries, journals, etc. It seems like a waste of time. But then I found out that it was actually good for recording every happy or sad moment in a person's life.
Another knock errupts from my door.
"Time for dinner!" My brother shreiks.
That's the siren call. If I don't go out in fifteen seconds, they're gonna have to drag me out of here.
So, for the meantime, goodnight.
~
I'm back! Isn't that great? I couldn't go to bed without writing what happened this day.
My mom cooked dinner, and as always, dad wasn't there. His seat was empty, and dust was starting to form since the last time he sat there.
My brother, the little four-year old that he is, can't help but wonder where his father is. "Where's dad?" He asks. His words were starting the become clearer and clearer everyday. And his speech was improving rapidly.
"I don't know sweetie," Mom murmurs, as she looks down to the ground. I know that she didn't want to talk about dad not being home all the time, and they would always fight about it.
"Just eat your food, Greg," I tell my brother, and he just nods at me.
And I can't help but wonder either why dad never IS home. It makes me feel sick to my stomach whenever I think about it.
So I would need to keep my mind off him. Or my family situation right now.
Rainbows.
Unicorns.
Okay, wait. Unicorns aren't real! Cross that out.
Oreos.
Lavander.
Roses.
Tootsie pop.
Tootsie pops! I remember back then, when dad would always bring home Tootsie pops!
This isn't working. I can't stop thinking about the fact that maybe--
Okay, I should stop thinking, and GET TO BED.
Goodnight.
~
Wait! I forgot to write about today! And what happened.
Dang.
I feel too sleepy to write about it. So I'd try to write about it tomorrow!
Once more, Goodnight. And that's the last time I'm going to write that down today.
It's 9:45. WAY past my bedtime. So, I'd better hit the hay!
~
♠ ♠ ♠
First entry.Hope it was good!
Please comment, if you'd want the second entry to be posted! Thanks! :D