Chapter Text
November 13th
I have never journaled before in my life. I don’t really see the point in it. If I want to remember something I will remember it.
But here I am, and I’ll try. My therapist recommended it. I asked him what I should write about, and he told me to jot down anything that I think I could reflect on. Well, I suppose that could be my whole life. This is a stupid thing to spend half an hour on each day.
Today was an ordinary day.
I continue to ignore the countless emails in my inbox, and the missed calls from Dimitri. He wants to get a drink with me. He doesn’t understand that I can’t leave the house without notifying them. If I don’t, and I leave on a whim, they’ll track me down and do who knows what. Even if it was just for a drink.
Cheery thought.
Well. I guess that’s it.
It has been 2 years since the launch.
I thought you should know.
November 16th
It seems that I have neglected to do my duty. But these past two days haven’t been any more exciting than usual.
I ordered a new brand of coffee to try, because the one I have been using got sued for swindling money.
Tomorrow I’m allowed to go shopping. I already let them know where I’d be, but that’s not really necessary because of the tracker. I just play on their safe side, so they don’t think I’m trying to run away.
I don’t do that.
I can’t chase, either. I can’t bring myself to.
November 20th
Dr. Day suggested that I visit your grave.
I told them that it wouldn’t help. He asked me why. I didn’t answer.
I realize now that I accidently write these entries to you. I’m not sure if it is you, specifically, but I don’t know who else it would be either.
I hear that the poets have a “you” in their verses, but it’s a vague person they’re directing the words to. They don’t know who the “you” is.
But I am not a poet. I never have been, I never will.
So, for now, the person is you, in retrospect.
I really enjoy my new coffee blend. It’s darker.
Eva Stratt slipped her black ballpoint pen in between the pages of her journal.
She picked up her mug and took a sip.
It hits the bottom of her stomach like a punch to the gut.
Coffee used to give her energy. It used to replace hours of sleep.
Now it churns her stomach like some sort of punishment.
But she’ll continue to drink it.
She’ll drink to Ryland Grace.
With coffee, because he was never much of a drinker.