So my friends are the only ones who keep me from doing all of my stories. By the way hope you like it and dont forget to vote and comment your reactions. Thank you.

(Mitchell's P.O.V.)

Why did I had brought the diary to school with me? That was probably the stupidest thing I had ever done, not only because I could loose it, but because now I couldn't concentrate on anything any one of my teachers were saying. I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing in any of my classes since every three seconds I was glancing at my bag. Several times I had actually gone through my bag in the middle of class just to make sure the purple notebook was still there. And this all could have been avoided if I hadn't put the notebook in my bag this morning. I had gotten some strange impulse, though, upon seeing it lying on my bed and had just grabbed it this morning. Now, here I was, shaking in my seat, waiting for math to get over with so I could skip lunch to read the next journal entry.

I tapped my fingers on my desk impatiently, watching the clock and shooting glances at my bag. Other students were looking at me strangely and I didn't blame them. I knew I probably looked odd to them since on a normal day I would be giving the teachers my undivided attention and writing down the notes. But today, I was doing neither, because that journal had turned me into an eager mess. I guessed I could have been compared to a junkie who was waiting to get his next fix because that was what it felt like-I was addicted to that journal.

The bell rang and I shot out of my seat, shouldering my bag as I hastily got out of the classroom. People kept giving me looks, but this time, I was pretty sure it was because I might have shoved a few of them out of my way. With that in mind, I forced myself to slow down. I took a couple deep breaths and walked at my normal pace toward the courtyard. After all, it was just a journal.

Yeah, a journal whose author thought exactly like I did and had the most beautiful handwriting I'd ever seen.

I took another deep breath once I stepped outside, and when the cool October air entered my lungs, I relaxed. Finally under control, I stopped where I was and glanced around. There weren't that many people out here, only about five or six, and they were far enough away from the spot I was headed to that I wasn't worried about being bothered or receiving stares. I made my way over to the tree I had deemed mine and sat down behind it, out of sight from everyone else. As I unzipped my bag, my hands shook with anticipation. I hadn't read an entry since yesterday after I had decided that I should only read one a day. But I was beginning to see a problem with that system because the longer I went without the diary; the more I found it harder to concentrate on anything else.

Turning to the third entry, I leaned up against the tree, making myself as comfortable as possible and began to read.

October 5th

I wonder if everyone has a song that when they listen to it, they feel as if the song was written especially for them. Or it seems like they could have written the song themselves because it fits so perfectly well with how they feel about their life. I'm not sure if others feel that way, but I know I do.

Every time I listen to it, I need to stop what I'm doing and close my eyes. During those minutes I feel like I understand everything and everyone. Nothing else matters when I listen to that one song. I'm so at peace with everything and myself that for a moment I forget everything that's wrong. I forget about my father. I forget about school. And I forget about the friends I don't have.

But I don't forget about him. In fact, he's the only thing I think about when I hear my favorite song. Well, I'm always thinking about him, but when I listen to that one song, it's the only time I can picture myself with him.

I wonder what his favorite song is and who it makes him think of. I wish I knew but I don't. What I do know, though, is that he does not think of me. My flower doesn't even know I exist.

I closed the notebook and collapsed back against the trunk of the tree. This entry... I couldn't even explain it, but I knew exactly what the author meant since my favorite song gave me the same feeling. Whenever I heard it, I got this sensation that could only be described as being infinite. It was an incredible feeling, and everything that had been troubling me before would disappear. My favorite song made me forget about all my faults and gave me hope that things would be okay in the end.

My thoughts shifted from the entry to the author. Just by reading three journal entries, I had entered this person's mind and learned thoughts of theirs probably no one else knew. I still felt a little guilty for invading their privacy like this, but if anyone understood how I felt when I read the entries, they wouldn't blame me. Every single entry I had read so far applied to me in some way.

Okay, yes. I had only read three entries, but that was irrelevant. What was relevant was that for some reason I felt connected to this person on level that was beyond personal. It had come to the point where I would give anything to meet the author, whoever he or she was.

With that in mind, I realized something-I only knew three solid facts about them. I knew the author was still in school from it being mentioned in the last two entries. I also knew that they had problems with their father; I just didn't know to what extent. And it was obvious that the author was deeply in love with a boy, whose name was unknown because the author was too gutless to ask.

Compared to the things I didn't know about the author, this list was considerably shorter. I really knew nothing about the author. I didn't know how old they were, and I didn't know their name. What was really bothering me, though, was that I didn't know if the writer was a boy or a girl.

"Hey Mitchell!"

I let out a surprised squeak and jumped about a foot in the air. With my heart beating ten times faster than it normally should, I looked over to my right where the voice had come from and saw Ellie smiling at me. I tried to smile back at her and said, "Hi."

"Sorry if I scared you," Ellie said, noticing my distressed state. "I didn't mean it."

"It's okay," I told her, absentmindedly running my finger over the spine of the journal. The movement must have caught her attention because Ellie looked down at it, curiosity showing on her pretty face.

"What's that?" she asked, pointed a manicured finger at the purple journal.

I clutched the notebook to my chest protectively. "Just a notebook."

"Really?" Ellie cocked an eyebrow at me, smirking. "Cause the way you're acting tells me it isn't just any notebook."

"It's a journal." I didn't know why I told her that, but I immediately regretted doing it. Unlike I expected, though, Ellie didn't ask any more questions about it. She just nodded her head and began to inspect her fingernails. I watched her face for a moment and was once again confused by the way she acted. "So...what are you doing here?"

"I didn't have anyone to talk to," Ellie said, looking up from her nails to give me sad puppy dog eyes that said 'pity me' with every blink. I found it hard to do, though, since I was once again only being spoken to because the more important people were busy.

"Where's Cody?" I asked.

"In the library, working on the project with Jonas," she answered

I gave her a puzzled look. "I thought they had gotten into another argument."

"They did," she said with a slight grin on her face. "But I told Jonas I'd never speak to him again unless he apologized to Cody and finished the project with him."

"Oh..." I blinked and she must have found my expression funny because she giggled.

"Yeah." Ellie took a piece of her hair and began playing with it. "And Monty's sick today, so that only left Chris or you to talk to. Obviously, I chose you because you actually listen to what I'm saying and aren't an annoying asshole like Chris."

I didn't say anything; I just held the journal tighter to my chest. After a moment of silence, though, I couldn't help ask the question I'd being wondering for a while.

"Why haven't you and Cody ever dated?"

Ellie looked surprised for a moment before she grinned widely, giggling again. "Cody likes Jonas way too much to be thinking about dating any one else...and besides...I'm a lesbian."

I must have looked as shocked as I felt because Ellie began laughing loudly. I watched as she stood up, brushing her jeans off.

"You look like Cody when you do that. More than you already do," she said as she began to walk away. "See yah, Mitchell!"

"Bye..." I mumbled, still staring after her with a look of shock that was now mixed with confusion.

Did I really look like Cody?