April 24
Dear Diary,
It's Saturday.
I just got back.
We –
They –
I –
Sorry.
I don't know how to explain what happened. I don't know how to put into words what just happened and what he told me. I don't know if I should even write down what he just said.
I can't – it just doesn't make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore. How am I supposed to believe this? How am I supposed to make sense of anything he just told me?
I can't. I can't do this. I'm not the type of person who can deal with this.
I think they've got it all wrong. They must have it wrong.
This isn't real.
You know what? I can't do this right now. I'll write more later when my brain isn't such a fucking mess. I thought writing in this diary would help but it isn't helping at all. In fact it's making it worse. Writing it down will make it real. I don't want it to be real. This can't be real. I think I've lost it. I think I've actually gone insane. I can't believe that I'm believing this shit.
Kim Conweller.
