You step off the elevator and see a large desk. There's a scratched out picture of a woman on the wall, a pencil case filled with glitter gel pens, and a journal. You open the journal to the first page.
backThis is my journal!! I'll be writing in here :)
I have no idea why. There is no explanation for why I feel this way. It's so odd, but I find the music in Lavender Town so comforting. It feels like death, it feels like mourning, but there's happiness to it. I think the correct term for that is "bittersweet". It feels like the acceptance of death. However, who's death it is, mine or someone else's, is something I still don't know.
It's telling me, "It's okay to die. You shoudn't do it yet, but it'll happen one day. And that's okay."
I honestly don't know whether or not that's a bad thing, but if you ask me for my opinion at least, I'd say it's pretty decent. If that makes sense.
Hey sorry for not responding to your texts uhm
again
but i had a good reason to, I swear!
i had my phone taken away, and i'm not getting it back in like, a week. Sure, I could've asked D for your discord account, I could've taken the phone back, and I could've just called you with the home phone, but it was like, impossible!!
shit man
who am i fooling.
i'm scared to message you. cuz im a giant pussy. i'm too much of a pussy to tell you i love you, too much of a pussy to tell you about my phone situation, too much of a pussy to tell you im a boy.
i don't know what's gonna happen. what you're gonna say. im sorry
i love you i promise.