If your pillow had a voice, what stories could it tell? Would it tell the tale of love and loneliness, of laughter and lust, of heartbreak and happiness, or sadness and solitude?
Dear diary; Sometimes, I let myself give in to the hope of holding you again one day. False hope, maybe, but it's the only thing that gets me through nights like these.
Dear diary; I caught myself thinking about you again. I know, it's nothing new- I thought about you yesterday and the day before that. I need to work on that...
Dear diary; I suppose I do consider myself to be that of a hopeless romantic. But I wonder... why are they considered hopeless and can you be one without the other?
They say time heals all, but I don't think that's true. Broken hearts never completely mend, they just learn to adapt once the pieces get lost forever.
Take care of yourself- no matter how little my words mean to you now or how second of a thought I am to you now, if a thought at all. I meant every word that I said.
Dear Diary; why do I keep doing this to myself? The way I still check up on them when I am nothing but a second thought, if a thought at all. It’s no wonder I am still a mess. Why can’t I just let it go? Why can’t I just be gone?
If you find yourself awake at 1AM, you just might be in love. If you find yourself awake at 3AM, don't do anything stupid, you are loved. If you find yourself awake at 5AM, you should go to sleep.
It's still in here, somewhere, I'm sure of it. The heart I want to give you is somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, or perhaps the edge of the galaxy. I know that I can find it, again, I just need time.
I used to think that I was invincible- a stone heart impenetrable to the holiest of goddesses. And then I met you- just one glance and this heart began to thaw.
Dear Diary; I feel tired- sleep just ain't cutting it anymore. I've felt this way for the last ten years- at least. I wonder if anyone else feel this way too.