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Dear Journal,
This is so stupid. I don’t see why I have to write in this thing (you?). Keith sent me to this Altean therapist who said I need to let my feelings out. Also the doctors recommended them. They’re like every other Altean, shocked by me trying to kill myself. Honestly I think I deserve an Oscar. Anyway, this therapist said to try and write my feelings down or something, get them out of my head. I don’t get it, they want me to talk about it and write about it? Plus, what if someone finds my journal?! I don’t want to explain the fucked up shit in my head, that’s how we got into this fucking mess. I wasn’t gonna do it. But, stupid mullet had to go and buy me a notebook to write in! Really, does he have to be so nice? Whatever, yeah, so I have to do this crap now. I don’t know what to write. My day was ok I guess. Um… my favorite color’s blue? This is so stupid. They gave me a better room in the castle. It’s right next to Coran’s. The windows overlook the royal courtyard. I feel like a princess locked in a tower. Everyone’s tiptoeing around me now instead of ignoring me. Honestly it’s worse. They’ve also removed like all easily accessible alcohols, the fuckers. I’m not that unstable! One mistake and they’ve child proofed everything!! Part of me feels like a child. And I bet it was Keith who’s pulling all the strings here! He doesn’t have to worry about me so much. I mean, it’s nice but I hate feeling out of control. A feeling I’m far too used to. I’m really trying to open up, I am, it’s just so hard. I’m afraid of being pitied or getting worse dreams because I’m talking about it. Whatever. I think I’m done for today. I don’t expect to write again.
-Lance