A Certain Strawberry's Secret Diary
Ichigo: Blade? (Annoyed/angry tone)
Blade-san: Yeah Ichigo what is that you want? (Blade's eyeball rolls)
Ichigo: Why are you writing another fanfiction? (Pure angry tone)
Blade-san: I'm trying to make you famous you fuckin' idiot.
Ichigo: I know that, but why do I have to write a stupid diary?!
Blade-san: Shut up Ichigo are you the fuckin' author?! Please note that italics=diary writing, regular=normal talking.
Ichigo: No, but I am the main characters and I some rights to you know. Well sorry for blabbering too much. Well my beloved fans if you're reading this Blade-san does not own Bleach, but all credits go to Tite Kubo.
Ichigo- Hello my name is Ichigo Kurosaki. I'm currently 17 years old. I'm a substitute Shinigami. Right now were in the middle of war with these Quincy who survived the massacre few hundred years ago. This diary was written during this time.
Dear Diary,
I think I fell in love with stupid midget (Rukia) when I told Kon this he tried to kill me in his doll form. Obviously he wasn't thinking that he was in his doll form. I don't know how to explain my feelings about this "love" thing. I think it started when she tried to save me from Tsukishima, when he tried to kill me and Rukia jumped in front of me when he was delivering the final blow. God this is stupid it feels like I'm talking to myself. Anyways I feel so different when I talk to her now. She might suspect I'm in love with her, but I never show any of my feelings. So I think it's the best the decision to hide and lock this diary up. So I want to ask her out on a date, but she already has a boyfriend his name is Renji. That stupid idiotic dumb moron took my girl, but he's cheating on Rukia for my ex Tatsuki. So in the past few days the war has made Soul Society and the Human World busy so I don't see Rukia much. Man I miss her smell and pleasant aroma. Damn it what am I saying. Anyone ways the reason I'm keeping this diary is so I contain my feelings about Rukia. God I don't how to confess my feelings towards her. I don't know how to confess to her.
Yours Truly,
Ichigo Kurosaki