The Journal Entries

Okay, so I know this is my second entry today. But I think I need to write this.

I was sitting here, on the couch, thinking about Oliver, and the kiss, and that bird he was with in the parking lot, and pretty much everything that I mentioned in my last entry. I was trying to understand why I was feeling the way I was feeling, after having seen him with that other girl. It finally occurred to me, after five hours of wondering.

The feeling I got in the parking lot—the one where I couldn’t move or speak, just stand there and watch them—was the exact same feeling I had when I found her pictures on his phone. I say her, because I refuse to use that bitch’s name. She’s nothing but a whore, and she doesn’t deserve to be called anything more. That rhymed. Whatever.

I remember how it all happened in slow motion; when his phone vibrated on the nightstand, and I slowly reached over to grab it before it woke him up. And it was right there: a picture of her, naked, all blonde and beautiful, and waiting for him. The caption beneath the photo said, “miss you babe, can’t wait to see you (: xoxo.”

xoxo my fucking ass, bitch. Mother FUCKING bitch. Goddamn it.

But I didn’t stop there, did I? No. Of course not. I put in his password—which he didn’t know I knew—and looked through his photos; he had more than one. More than ten, even.

That moment—the feeling I had—was the worst moment of my entire life. And in the parking lot, watching them, it felt exactly like that. And the one thing that makes it worse?

I’m pretty sure she is the same girl from the pictures.

x,
Carlie