Post by Misty on Aug 4, 2011 12:58:54 GMT -5
April||Claire||Fray
Lord, If I die today, take my soul, It's what I pray
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August 4, 2011
The word journal tastes funny on my lips. I guess it's not necessarily the fact that I've never kept one before so much as the idea behind it. A place to keep your secrets, well, secret. And although I've been doing a pretty good job of keeping them quiet, I'm starting to fall apart. That's why I'm writing here, I guess. To be myself and keep these secrets truly contained.
But before I even do that, I need to say what is on my mind. What's eating me alive. These thoughts of secrets and lies are heartbreaking to me, and I can feel myself slowly rotting from the inside out. I have been lying about everything until recently. Are lies that become true still lies? I honestly don't know myself. Well, maybe I do on the inside. But in books, the truth that characters hold within themselves can never be found by them, and the same goes for me.
How can I truly love someone? I mean, I love Jimmy so much, but I don't want him to be taken away from me as the others so dear to me were. Everyone I love ends up dying, what if Jimmy does too? I feel so useless, like I can't protect anyone anymore. My life is so repetitive I begin to wonder what is real and if I'm not just dreaming up my whole life. If I am dreaming it, please let me wake up from this nightmare.
But, if I am to keep all my secrets, I would need to spill everything, beginning to now. Today, I'll just do Aden. Just how he died. Not the domino effect after, just how he died. I won't go into great detail, either. We were sitting on a rocky hillside that overlooked the ocean in Maine. The sun was setting, it was drizzling, and it was my birthday. He had taken me out to celebrate it, and we had gone here. My emotions were so high, full of compassion and happiness, I never realized my emotions caused bad things to happen. When the first pebbles hit us, we knew that they meant one thing: rock slide. I never realized I had actually CAUSED it until a year later, but I still blamed myself for it. We tried to run, but they came to quickly. He was swept off his feet to the rocks below us, but I was spared with bumps and bruises. He had been buried and it took him exactly 23 minutes, this I know. Slow, painful death. And who was to blame but me?
April
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