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February 12

5:43 p.m.

Dear journal, you stupid piece of trash,

I hate myself.

How could I have been so stupid? What's the matter with me? Why didn't I tell Gerard the truth in the first place? God. I hate everything and everyone in this stupid, screwed-up pathetic excuse for a planet.

Except Gerard.

I like him. I mean, I like him. I LIKE him.

A freaking-lot.

Why can't I just die?

I didn't have the nerve to tell him the truth in the beginning, especially after he kept talking that way about hunting down the person that spread the rumor. I didn't mean to start that stupid rumor, I honestly didn't, but he won't believe me. He'll never talk to me again and it's all my fault and I WANT TO DIE.

I should've guessed in the first place that he'd eventually figure it out. We go to the same damn school, after all, the same damn classes, sitting right next to each other every damn day and me having to SIT there RIGHT BY HIM and it's torture. He absolutely radiates hate. Hate for me. Gerard hates me. I hate me. The whole world just seems stupid and pointless.

_____________________

February 15
6:20 p.m.

Hello again.

My mother has finally noticed that I've been acting differently and came upstairs to my room for a chat.

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, obviously trying to sound motherly, but out-of-practice.

I told her, "Leave me alone."

She said, "Frank, honey, you're not yourself lately. Is something wrong?"

"Go away."

"Does this have something to do with school? Your grades haven't been dropping, have they? You know you mustn't let that happen. I'd be so disappointed. Is that what's wrong?"

"Mom," I growled. "I'm fine. I'm fine, okay? Leave me alone."

_____________________

February 19
5:31 a.m.

Too early…
I can't get back to sleep, even though I still have another hour and a half before I need to get up.

Why would my father send me something as stupid as a journal? The idiot.
_____________________
5:40 a.m.
Whoever said I wanted one, anyway?

_____________________

February 21
6:45 p.m.

Journal,

I wrote him another letter today. I wonder if he reads them? Maybe he just rips them up when he gets them, or maybe he does read them but burns them afterward? In it, I asked him to talk to me. Actually, I begged him to talk to me. I've got to talk to him.

He told me before that he thought I was hot. He didn't know exactly who he was talking to, but he said it. He was going to ask me out. I probably would've said yes. What does he think of me now? Exactly how much does he hate me? Does he hate me? It couldn't be an act, he's not that heartless. God, I wish he'd talk to me.

He completely ignores me, except whenever we happen to run into each other in the corridors- and then he just passes me a look of sheer scorn that really, really hurts. I can't stand this.
_____________________
Midnight

Journal,

I just woke up and remembered that I have homework for Chemistry class. Damn it. I'm so tired, I just want to yell and throw things and run away from everything. Gerard would've told me to screw it, but I can't… and it's all for nothing, too, because I'm too exhausted and distracted to concentrate on homework.

_____________________

February 29
[5:53 p.m.]

Piece-of-Trash,

The world's still turning, but Gerard still hates me, so what's the point?
_____________________
aww, poor Frankie. :c I feel bad for him, even though he's a figment of my imagination. 

There's a plate of cookies and stuff in the back, and some tissues and rocks to throw at me for hurting Frankie. And making you wait for the next chapter. :D

-Sam

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