Jesse's Journal"Go away!" I could feel the words leaving my mouth in a rush, sounding and tasting like acid on my tongue.
"Chester Go. Away." My face was red, I could feel my cheeks burning, the tears rolling from my eyes and spilling over my face. The pain was incredible, shooting up my thigh, down my calf. I was on the floor, holding my knee up to my torso. But it hardly compared to the throb in my chest, the aching inside of me that told me I'd never dance again. This was the moment I knew. The moment I knew that everything I had ever worked for, ever cherished that the one thing that I loved most in the world, more than the people around me, was going to be ripped from me, forever.
"Please Please, Chester. Go away please. Please " I begged, words slipping out of my mouth between breathless sobs. I couldn't look up at him, I couldn't let myself see his face. Not like this. My heart was broken.
I was four when my mother took me to see Swan Lake. It wasn
Ezras JournalHe died and I cannot make myself do a bloody thing. I cannot remember the last thing I ate The last thing I felt, or did. My body is imprinted into my bed. My eyes are tired, they sting but I cannot cry anymore. My heart It's so heavy My hand is shaking
Oh God Chester
Please, please, let this be a dream.
Alexs JournalI knew I was a homo from the moment I opened my little newborn mouth and the first thing I did was sing: "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Alex!"
Okay, well, that's a lie You're my journal, right? Mine and only mine? So I'll be straight with you, so to speak . I just mean I don't have to pretend with you Because you are mine.
I knew I was different when I was eight. Apparently I was the last one to catch on. My family knew I was some 'pansy faggot', the kids at school knew, my one and only best friend Emily knew I was a fabulous bitch, everyone except me had caught on.
Emily and I went to school together. She lived in a big house with a basement AND an attic. She had a lesbian sister in high school and parents who absolutely adored and constantly cooed over their children no matter what. I always imagined I lived with them, that my dad was some hotshot businessman who wore black pinstripe suits and had just a little line of gray in his peppery dark