Hello Again Journal. As you know I'm Danny. I have curly blonde hair and light blue eyes. I am 5'7. Yesterday, I wrote about the dream I had. But today, this a direct entry a normal one you can say. Mrs. Jone's liked the butterfly poem. The butterfly poem that could stop time and as fly as high as the sky. I'm not trying to rhyme but just to talk of the butterfly who can stop time. That's sort of how it goes. But yeah anyways, I wish you could talk. And perhaps we could be friends.
I tell you everything and there are more tear stains in here than on my pillow. Sorry getting off track. What I'm about to say next is kind of cheesy and yeah I know that my imagination and my dreams are weird but what I'm about to tell you is even weirder. The cafe from my dream yesterday...there's one that looks just like it opening somewhere in the upper parts of the town. It's squeezed in right between two building, honestly I don't even know how it was built there.
Now I know this just can't be a coincidence. I don't believe in such a thing...but isn't this weird? Perhaps it's just my imagination. Perhaps after all I'm just crazy. Just like my mother says I am, just Like Mrs. Jones believes. Wouldn't it be cool if my life was a horror movie? Like the one's I've seen. Like the one's I've watched and laughed at over and over again. Perhaps this is because of the screaming. The voices...don't exist haha you expected me to say I hear voices and now my dreams are coming true, how cliche. If this is true however, I am not involving myself. I am not so clueless....so idiotic.
B-But I am when it comes to math. I truly wish you were a person my dear journal. Then I wouldn't be alone anymore, with just my imagination and the dreams. As well as the memories that replay over and over again inside of the closed walls in my head. How about we end on a good note today my dear journal? Here's a poem I've been thinking of since I've started writing this.
Can you hear the screams? They screech and cry until they fill your mind with the agony of their own pain. Can you hear the beautiful singing they create with their cries? Can you see the clouded skies as it rains, pouring over their bodies as they crumple to the ground? Can you tell their stories? Can you run as fast as the sound that echoes with your screams? As you scream and their screams die out, the monster in the shadows mocks you. 'Scream! Scream! Oh how I love your screams.' He howls out under the fading light of the moon. Forever trapped in darkness....can you see? Perhaps not. Perhaps it is your body that rots on the ground with, your thoughts bringing you out so far along. Okay ow my hand hurts. And I've already lost the words for the next part of the poem. Whatever though, perhaps it will come to me again. And this ends another journal entry.
Sincerely Danny~
YOU ARE READING
The Journal
RandomDanny was a boy who had dreams. Many dreams, dreams like no other human being has ever dared to well, dream. He even had day dreams like most people do. The thing is, unlike most people he remembers all of his dreams. And he keeps them in his Journa...
