Dear Journal:

I haven't written to you in a few. I don't know why. I guess it's a lack of inspiration? Who knows or rather who gives a fuck?

Anyways. I need to talk to him. I need to tell him what's on my mind. But I can't just come right out and say it. It's one of those highly opressed feelings that I must confess. He knows only half of it but soon, soon my dear friends, he will know the whole thing. And he will accept it. If he doesn't like that, then there's the door. See ya in hell.

So yeah, good night!