I have been writing this story for awhile so enjoy. This story is rated K but maybe turn rated M.

Will's POV

My counselor instructed me to start writing in this journal. I don't know what she expects to come out of this, really. But she told me, "Getting your feelings out will really help you, Will. I know that you won't share them with me, but maybe, writing them down will be helpful. And Will, be honest to yourself.

I swear I won't read it." She is a nice lady, she really is. Just sometimes I wished that she would go away and stop trying to sort my problems out. So, if you lied Mrs. Franklin and you actually are reading this: Just leave me alone.

After seeing so many counselors you start feeling like you have more problems than what you started with. I feel like all of these problems could be fixed if I could just be alone. But for some reason, they all think that's the worst thing for me.

I feel like a four year old, being watched carefully in case I mess something up. Why am I even writing in this thing? It seems almost pointless.

"William! Will!" I heard my mom shuffle up the stairs until she appeared in my door frame, "Oh, Will! There you are. I thought you would be downstairs. I didn't expect you to be in your room...alone. Why are you up here?"

I closed the black journal and set my pen on top of it, "I was doing homework. I've only been up here for a few minutes." I explained, standing up from my desk and walking past her, "But I'll come back down stairs."

"I'm just looking after you, sweetie. How was your session with Mrs. Franklin ?" She asked, following me down the stairs closely.

Let's see. She stared at me blankly for ten minutes waiting for me to talk, then she proceeded to write down notes of who knows what in her notepad. Then she asked me all sorts of 'heart-tugging' questions. Even though they were really stupid, she had the damn nerve to ask me about my hobbies.

I know that's dumb but I know the way these people think. She thinks that if she can make me open up one one little subject that I will spill my guts to her. But, I'm not down for that. No thank you.

"Oh, it was great." I smiled sarcastically, she always got mad when I did this after a session, "I really found like I've learned something. Who knows?

Maybe next time she will perscribe me drugs to knock all of the craziness out. I can be normal, just like you wanted."

"Will. You are not crazy, you know I don't think that, right?" She asked, extending her arm out to lay on my shoulder.

"Just because there have been problems in the past doesn't mean we can't fix the future together."

There were multiple things I wanted to say right now.

1. Which parenting book did you get that line out of?

2. Thanks for suddenly trying to become mom of the year, too late.

3. You don't know anything about my future, please stop trying to mess with it.

"Yeah, of course." I mumbled, learning that any of my thoughts would just get me no where. I learned that to please my mom, I just needed to say what she wanted to hear. Same with the counselors, just say what is expected.

"I'm glad, Will. You know what? I think Mrs. Franklin is doing good for you! We might have to keep her." She smiled, probably feeling like she was the most accomplished mother. "Do you want a snack? I think you should have a snack."

July 11, 2012

I had to spend all night watching movies with mom. If I see one more romantic comedy I might just vomit. But, she looked at it as, "Quality bonding" time. Oh yeah, nothing more quality than watching movies together. But, I didn't mind, as long as I don't have to talk to her.

I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to be writing in this journal. Mrs. Franklin said I should write my story but I don't know if I really want to bring it up.

But seeing as how this journal is my only friend at the moment, I feel like I should explain something to it.

Name: William Horton.

Age: 17

Is that good enough? Probably not. I feel like writing my feelings in this is so pointless. You want to know what I feel right now? Stupid.

July 13, 2012

Mrs. Franklin asked how my journal was going. I told her,

"Funny story. I haven't exactly been writing every day." She asked why not, "What's to write about when nothing happens?" I responded. She gave me the most unsettling look, "Will, I told you. You need to write out what happened.

"Maybe I don't want to? Has she ever thought of that?

Not even this journal wants to hear this story.

July 14, 2012

I'm finding it impossible to sleep. You know, some things just refuse to leave your mind. Somethings just hurt too much to remember. Somethings just suck.

I said that I would never bring him up, but, damn, he won't leave my mind. My mind is being eaten up by this whirlwind of love, lies, and regret. For some reason I actually want to bring him up, for some reason I feel like I'm going to drown if I don't.

I'll write about him tomorrow, I've said too much today.

July 15, 2012

Mom went to the store, it took me so fucking long to convince her to just leave me alone. All I want is to be left alone! Finally. I guess this will buy me sometime to start writing about this. It won't all fit in the time frame that I have right now.

So, I'll just start from the beginning. The first day I ever laid eyes on Sonny Kiriakis.

It was the first of the summer, 2011. I had just finished junior year and I was heading home to start my summer off right: watching tv and eating. I didn't expect to see a moving van blocking the view of my house when I got home, it was parked in the neighbors yard. A guy and a lady carried boxes to their new house, talking about the weather here.

"I fucking hate it!" I remember him yelling, walking out of the house with the door being slammed behind him. I still remember what he was wearing, I still remember the look on his face when he saw me.

He wore black jeans, a white v-neck followed with a black hoodie. His sneakers looked beat up but they had multi-colored shoe laces on top of them. He was tall.

Everything about him looked beautiful to me, I knew I wanted him right then and there. God, then those brown eyes looked in my direction. I remember I was halted in the middle of the sidewalk, mesmerized by him. I looked like such an idiot, he always let me know I did too.

"Sonny, get over it! We love this house and we read on the internet this is a great place to live. So, unless you plan on moving out today, you just keep quiet." His mother spat at him, handing him a box. He glanced down at the box with this look of hate for his mother, then looked back at me with a flashing smile.

I don't think I can write anymore today. This is all too much.

I closed the book in front of me, knowing that I probably messed up the ink with my tears. God, I should've never thought about him. I was getting better, I know it.

But now, here I am, crying. I moved the journal away from me and stomped to my closet, reaching in the back and pulling out the black hoodie that I had just mentioned.

It still smelt like him. I pulled my shirt off my body and quickly pulled the sweater on, feeling as the oversized hoodie dangled over my body. The bottom of the hoodie fell down past my waist as the arms fell past my hands. I crashed to the floor as my emotions took a hold over me.

I can't handle this. Tears jerked from the back of my eyes as his scent cradled me. I'm so stupid, I'm so stupid! Why did I do this? My tears fell into the sleeves, instantly making me want to cry harder for tainting his sweater. I pulled it close to me hugging myself around my waist, I am such an idiot.

Feb/1. Later today, Thanks for reading