Chapter Thirty-Eight: Past: The mockery of love

The journals should've been left back home, the journals should've remained a secret and they should've been burnt to ashes. I stared at them and wondered how I found solace in these pretty little journals, empty they once were…now all I saw was filled pages with different emotions, all suddenly seeming like gibberish.

All hard to read, some cringeworthy, some emotional, some self-destructive, and some just lost. I wondered how the emotional journey could fit, to me they were too heavy and now…all I saw was a truck carrying a weight it shouldn't have. I pushed the wheelchair back, still holding the journals in my lap.

I searched the drawers, for something. Something I didn't even know until I found it and shook it to hear if there some contents in it.

How will burning it get rid of the feeling? It won't burn the pain away.

No, but it will burn the evidence away.

Rip em'