Hello! So this is the start of a new story I've had buzzing in my head for the past month now. I've currently got other projects on this site in the works and I know I really should finish one before starting another but I couldn't resist! This is a Cloti fic that hope many of you enjoy so sit back, relax and enjoy! Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or the characters within. Suck.


Cloud's Diary, Entry One

Dear Diary,

Oh screw that shit. I'm just gonna write this out-plain and simple. Hey. My name is Cloud Strife, and I am the not-so-proud owner of this notebook. ( Calling It a diary sounds girly.) Tell you something about myself? Okay. I live in Neimbelheim which is a small town by the sea. So that means everyone knows everyone here, so that means everyone here knows all about everyone else's shit. Do I have family here? Yeah. I live with my Mom. ( I'm seventeen by the way.) My Dad died when I was three so no, no Dad. Do I have friends here? Fuck no. Why? Because I am the definition of social outcast here. That's why. Remember me saying everyone knows everyone else's shit? well, here's my shit.

My Mom's name is Eliza Strife, and my Dad's name was James Sawyer. Mom and Dad were high school sweethearts. So being as madly in love as they were Mom got knocked up with me when she was about sixteen. Well, maybe it's because people in this town are so uptight. Or maybe it's because this town is so closed-off from the rest of the world. Or maybe it's just full of idiots who are just too narrow-minded for their own damn good. However you wanna call it, when it comes down to it Mom's pregnancy was the town's biggest scandal at the time. Pregnant outside of wedlock and under age. The shame! So Mom's parents kicked her out of the house, and with nowhere to go she wound up staying with Dad. Actually, from what I hear grandpa and grandma Sawyer were pretty cool about the whole situation. All they asked for was Mom to make sure I was healthy, and for Dad to get a job to support us. He ended up getting a job as a maintenance man on a cargo ship.

Dad was devoted to Mom, and vice versa. With my grandparent's help they found a way to make it all work, so nine months later I come in to the picture. Now remember: Mom and Dad were teenagers and unmarried, so when I was born I was already known town-wide as a mistake. Now throw in the fact that Mom and Dad never tied the knot-ever...yeah I was pretty much screwed from the minute I started breathing. I remember asking Mom why they never got married. She said they were wild and crazy when they were younger. High school partying, drinking, sex ( Obviously.) So they were very rebellious. Oh, sure. They cut down on all of the above when she got pregnant with me. But that rebellious streak never went away. They decided not to ever get married simply because everyone kept telling them to. Personally I congratulate them. If it were me I know I'd probably do the same thing. Them getting married wouldn't have changed anything anyway. If it's not one thing the town would just find something else to sneer at. People here are just determined like that.

Now fast forward three years and our situation goes from screwed to hell. Like I said Dad was a ship mechanic. One day the ship he was on got caught up in a really bad storm. Now I could probably make this more in-depth and personal by adding in more details. What I remember about that day, how we got the news, how Mom couldn't stop crying for days...but why bother? It's done. Besides I'm already writing more in this damn thing than I thought I would. So long story short: The ship went down and took Dad and the crew with it. The town mourned their loved ones with garlands of flowers and big gatherings at the church. Dad's funeral was simple. Just me, Mom and my grandparents Sawyer. Yeah. Nothin' but love for us, huh?

Such is my life.

So what's been going on since then? Fucking bullshit, that's what. I have no friends because I'm the bastard son of a dead sailor and Neimbelheim's biggest high school slut. ( Their words-not mine.) So that automatically makes me the bad guy. Maybe that's where all of this...rage comes from. Okay, so by now you pretty much know all about me. So it's no surprise that I'm a screwed-up mess, right? I started " acting out" pretty soon after Dad died. If I had to pin point the exact " when" of it all, then I think it really started when I was eight. I remember us going to the grocery store one day, and out of nowhere this little red-head shit decided to shove Mom and she dropped her purse. Then the little bastard kicks it away from her. His mom made him apologize she...she had this superior look on her face. Her and her boy. Like Mom had it coming. I see blood. Next thing I know I'm pounding the kid's face in over and over.

People are screaming, the kid's squealing like a pig and bleeding from his snotty nose, and Mom was crying. I think that was the only reason why I stopped. I hate it when Mom cries. So yeah-okay enough of that. That little punk started it and every other kid fell in line after that. So I pretty much got in to fights every day. Hell at this point I don't think my day would be complete without one. This rage I have...I guess it's always been there. But lately it's gotten worse. Before I used to just trash-talk and cuss-out whoever pissed me off. Maybe finish with a slug in the face. Just one. But hey, if they want more then who am I to deny them? What is it those stupid politicians always say? Give the people what they want. But lately...maybe in the past couple of years I guess, my " Fits" have been getting worse. I've tried to keep to a kind of code of honor. Heavily instilled by my mother by the way. Don't ever be the one to start the fight, but finish it if I have to. Don't hit anyone weaker than me. Don't hit women or kids ( even if they deserve it.) Don't steal. That's something only real bullies do and contrary to popular belief, I'm not the bad guy. But this inexplainable rage I keep having... It's making it very hard to remember my code. Just two days ago the head cheerleader ( Her name is Scarlet Monroe and she is the definition of stereotype. Blonde. Pretty. Rich. Superficial. Whatever.) She tripped me in the hall while I was on my way to science. The she said " Oops!" and smirked at me. She gave me that look. You might know the one. The look that says you're trash. Usually when she pulls shit like that I can just ignore her. I'll be angry as hell but I won't do anything. But that day, I just kinda lost it.

I knocked her books right out of her hand with a hard slap to her wrists, then I shoved her as hard as I could away from me. Judging by the hard bang of the metal I knew she'd hit her back pretty hard. So then I said oops. Partly to piss her off. But it was also partly because unlike her, I actually meant it. I hadn't meant to shove her so hard. That little love tap has earned me a week of suspension. Not that I'm complaining much. One week of no school, no people to dodge around or to piss me off in general. Amen. But Mom seems to think she's running out of options. I know it's been hard on her. And I know I don't make it any easier. But it's been fucking hard on me too, y'know? So this is where you come in, Notebook. Mom says I need to express myself and not keep my feelings inside or whatever. So she's making me write in this. It's either this or she's threatened to take me to see a shrink. With my rep being what it is, words gets out that I need psychiatric help would be icing on the cake, wouldn't it? So here I am.

So to re-cap I'm the town bastard, emotional mess and all around loser. Who likes to hit things. And I have anger issues. And my magic cure all is this damn notebook. " The pen is mightier than the sword." I've heard that somewhere before. Yeah. Allow me to reserve judgment on that one, okay? So Mom says she wants me to figure out where all of my anger comes from. Uh, THE TOWN?! THE IDIOTS IN IT?! What's to figure? Anger's anger. Though I have considered that a contributing factor could be that I'm a teenager, hormones and all. It's like everything gets on my nerves now. Even something simple like Mom telling me to clean my room is like nails on a chalkboard. In my head I know she just loves me, wants what's best for me, yadda, yadda, yadda. But emotionally I just wanna throw something at her. it's my fucking room! My space! I'll clean it when I want to! I control nothing in my life! Can't I at least control how I keep my GODDAMN ROOM?! Okay, okay. I get it. Throwing a bitch fit about my room is kinda lame but like I said-

" Cloud?!" Hands clenched in to fists as his pen is forced to still. Teeth grit. Hold it together. " Cloud?!" She's closer now. The bedroom door opens as Eliza Strife leans against the doorframe, sighing quietly. She brushes back her lovely golden blonde hair to stare at her son. Cloud slowly spins around in his chair to glare at her. The young man is very much like her in the looks department. Same blonde hair. Same blue eyes. Even certain aspects of his face were similar. One could easily say he had his mother's pale skin, her cheekbones. Even her smile on the rare occasion he cared to. He had heard before that if Eliza had been born a man, she would look like him. Blue met blue and Eliza sighed. " Cloud, I've been calling you for the last five minutes. What are you doing?"

Wordlessly Cloud held up the notebook, waving it pointedly before letting it drop back down on to the surface of his desk. Her expression cleared and she smiled brightly at him. " Oh, you're writing! That's so great, Honey!" Cloud just shrugged his shoulders, If she said so... " Well, dinner's ready so put that away." A spike of anger. A brush of annoyance. First she wants him to write, now she doesn't want him to write. Can't she make up her mind?! ' Don't get mad. Don't yell. Not at her. She gets enough in her day as it is.' He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. Then he opened his eyes again to stare at her.

" Okay. Can you just gimme a minute to finish? You said you wanted me to do it, so I want it done." he didn't yell at her. He silently congratulated himself on that. But his anger was unfortunately, loud and clear. Eliza gave him a hard stare, one that said ' Don't start with me' and shook her head.

" Well I'm glad you're writing, Dear but... You know this isn't something you can just get out all at once, right? You need to be doing this every time you-" His glare intensified. That seemed to be the only one she needed. Eliza sighed again quietly and stepped forward. " Cloud-"

" I just need a minute, Okay?" He'd made his tone softer, but the anger refused to fade from his eyes. His mother smiled softly at him, but her eyes held only sadness. She suddenly seemed so much older to him.

" Okay, but hurry up or dinner will go cold."

" Fine." She stepped back then closed the door behind her. Cloud turned back around to his desk, clenching the sides as he breathed heavily through his nose. He felt like he'd just run a marathon. He flipped quickly though the pages, counting them. Seven pages worth? Damn. Where was he? Cloud scanned through his entry before he found the last paragraph. Oh yeah. He took up his pen then finished the though he had on the page. Then he threw down his pen and sat back in his chair. What was it going to take for everything to just. Be. Quiet? Cloud shoved himself up and strode out of his room, his latest entry bold against the page of his notebook. He'd pressed the pen down pretty hard.

' I'm just too angry to care!'


Done! So what do you think? Please R&R and bless your happy happiness!