Idea by @mere_inkslinger

Write a journal entry about your day but with a plot.

minipage

In all honesty, my day was highly uneventful due to the fact that I didn't not have school today which lead me to do absolutely nothing noteworthy.

And on a second point of honesty, I do not usually attempt to journal because I have this fear of revealing my whole self to any one person, which has caused many issues in the past with relationships. It's not a lack of trust; I am a very trusting person. I am afraid that by telling one person everything about me, they will understand me, better than I understand myself. So I keep a lot of secrets. Some people know somethings, others know other things. This has made people think I'm a liar or not trusting, which as a general rule, isn't true.

No one, absolutely no one, can know everything about me. I refuse to let that happen.

But, part of writing is revealing yourself.

So here is my day, as if I could actually regularly keep a journal.

Sorry for the lack of a plot.

I think it's weird that we start and end our days doing the exact same thing: sleeping.

Every day of our life is like this.

Except for two days: your birth day, when you only fall asleep, and your death day, when you only wake up.

Which is scary. And ironic. And so metaphorical.

That's what I thought about in the shower today.

About fifteen minutes before that, I was driving home from piano lessons, in which I wrote a swaggin' song in E major about oblivious manatees (IDK Benny's kinda insane and he also wore his suit with the coat collar turned up and I told him he looked like BBC's interpretation of Sherlock Holmes and the girl next to me was like :O and Benny was like :O and I was like *smug*), and anyways, I wanted to find my diary from the spring of 2014.

It has ten pages full, which is pathetic, but I don't journal well.

It's a pink leather journal and if anyone discovered the full contents, I might burst into flames.

Anyways, the point was to chronicle my final (hopefully) move.

It ended up chronicalling something else, but that's a different point.

The first four pages are numbered 12/28- 5/22.

Everyday, I was supposed to write a "pro" about moving.

I only made it to 2/23.

Which is impressive, for me.

Sometime (I can't remember when), I came back in black pen, and commented on some of these ideas, very sarcastically.

Some of my pros actually turned out to be pros, like "shelves for my stuffies" and "painting my room."

Some of my pros were a little off like "doing theater" and "get a treehouse."

After my pros are a set of journal entries.

There's only three, so maybe it doesn't qualify as a set.

But it's really hard to read about myself.

I can picture myself writing each entry and I can feel the emotions I was feeling.

I've read old diaries of mine before.

I always seem so hateful.

I never seem happy.

Maybe I only write when I'm upset.

I'm currently stuck with all my writing. None of it is going anywhere.

I made a cake today and the top fell off.

I didn't do my English homework.

But I did start watching Attack on Titan and I watched the first hour of The Fault in Our Stars before I had to stop.

I also Skyped Rosie and we made sweet potatoes and threw stuff.

Overall, a simple day that started with banana chocolate chip muffins with cinammon crunch topping and ended with sweet potato chocolate cake.

Or, rather, started with sleep and ended with sleep.