Dear diary,

Indeed this is another one of my English homework tasks, that I think is good enough to be posted here. The task is to write a diary entry to investigate the use of various language techniques. Dear Nexas, I am not suicidal.


Dear diary,

Will this be the last time I’ll write in you from the “comfort” of my room? The last entry written on my bed, somewhere in this inner-city suburb? As much as the cold hard street below stinks, it is 10 times worse in here, trust me.

I can hear my father, just beyond my closed room door, shouting at mom. World's most convincing drama if you ask me, I get a dose of it pretty much everyday, or at least when the dadium and momium particles collide. As if that’s gonna solve their problems. It’s funny how simple things like money and lipstick can tear apart the two people who made me.

There were nights when I cried like the kid I was, the quit sob I cried trying not to give in to “weakness” when I fell and grazed my knees, and I thought that was painful. Some nights I distracted myself with studies and stuff that other teens do, anything other than my parents. But tonight is different. I feel like I’ve been crushed in the debris of a collapsed building, but I’m not aware of the pain I’m supposed to be in, because I’m about to leave this world, and everything around me is fading into a bright light. I think I’ve earned this numbness, after all this bullcrap I’ve been through.

I feel this calling, a strong desire, almost a longing, all my life, to run away, escape this hell hole, before everything turns apeshit, with me in the middle of it all. Nothing has hurt me more than this, and nothing will. I cannot possibly be selfish in this decision. If anyone, they should be the ones mature enough to sort this out, bloody hypocrites. I’ve waited long enough, no more tomorrows. It should be easier for them when I’m gone. No longer will I be around to piss them off, “...what do we do with the lil-shit?” I’ll be on the streets somewhere, looking for something, or someone, somehow...

you only live once,
Artking