Blake Arthur Gaskarth's report. Date the incident occurred: Monday 26th November, 2013. Time: 11:36 pm. Punishment: - 16 months in Dotters Mental Hospital. - After that duration, 72 hours of community service. - A fine issued at a later date. Incident: On the 26th November, Blake Gaskarth burnt down his neighbours home. This resulted in the minor injuring of Sandy Tia, and the loss of many expensive possessions. Extra: Blake Gaskarth is 17, and has developing mental issues. He is to be kept under right security, and given the prescribed medication daily. Signed: Judge Crombid. ••• The Diary Of A Loony Dear diary, . .[/colour]Well, that sounds a little formal eh. Maybe I should give you another name? Hm, Tinsel? Nah, not cool enough. I'll go with Christmas Tree then. What can I say, I'm feeling festive. So how do ya do little notepad? Nice to meet yo' Christmas Tree. . .[/colour]So, to be honest, this sucks. They're making me write this, y'know, the Mitza's. Well, I suppose you don't, but my handwriting's shaky so I can't write too much. I'm sure you'll encounter them soon enough though. . .[/colour]Oh wait, you're a book! Never mind, you're better of not knowing about them anyway. . .[/colour]They're making me write this apparently because it helps track my thoughts. I smell bullshit, but whatever floats their boats. . .[/colour]I've been here for 1 month, 29 days, 6 hours and twenty minutes. Fun right? You bet. Ugh. It doesn't matter how many times I tell them, they still won't believe me. And so I'm still stuck here, in the "loony bin" -- formally the "mental hospital" but no one here calls it that. Yay me. Aren't holidays fun? . .[/colour] Please excuse the sarcasm - or don't for all I care - it's a little hard not to be sarcastic in a place like this. . .[/colour]It's honestly not my fault, no matter how many times I tell them that. . .[/colour]I didn't do that, Leah did. Goddamnit. . .[/colour]It's a shame you know; ah well. They say she just in my head... Idiots, all of them. I mean, she's even sitting across from me! Look, damnit, look! She's there, please, it wasn't even freaking me! . .[/colour] Sorry, I just want out. This is getting tiring. The other day Brea, pretty much one of the weirdest bipolar crazies, tried to escape. I've got to admit, I was a little surprised. Didn't think she had it in her. . .[/colour]She hasn't even got to the nearest village before she was caught. . .[/colour]So I should go. Slush time! I'm sorry but the food here is disgusting. Even worse than the community centre food. Colourless crap on a plate. Mhm, tasty. Screw this, I'm gonna go see if Elliot's ready to go. Later, Christmas Tree. -Blake.
xD I know, I'm gonna just give up on BB codes ahah. So I don't really like writing in this style, which kind off sucks and everything, but yeah. So I plan on doing a mix of diary entries and like, normal narrating. But yeah. :3 Thank you!
I fell in love with this.. Lol don't know why but I can relate to not being understood but any ways.. I want more of this diary, love it.
Dear Christmas Tree, So today marked officially my second month here. ... I don't really know what to write. I know they want me to confide in you, but I don't know if I can. It's all a trick; most of us are too far gone to realise. They give you a diary and expect you to write out your darkest and most hidden secrets, just for them to slyly read it and later prosecute you. Friendly Folk. Today, like every other day, I did **** all. They had to get rid of the exercise programme after Brea escaped through a small crack in the Gym wall, and now the only trip out of my "room" - a tiny cupboard like cell - is to go to the cafeteria twice a day, and therapy once a week. We, us inmates and so called 'loonies', can no longer even talk to each other. Today therefore was pretty dull. I ate a delicious breakfast of what consisted of rotting Cheerios and a mouldy slice of bread, followed by sitting in a cell all day and staring at a wall. So yeah: exciting, eh? I'm only writing to kill time. Maybe that's their plan, I don't know. We'll be so bored, we'll write everything down and lose our minds. Insanity, boredom, happiness, pain, all unknown to me. I feel numb at the moment, like I'm slipping away from reality. I think the guards are hoping we'll all lose our minds. To bad our minds are already apparently lost. I can't write anything down concerning myself in person, the event or Leah. This is a reminder for me to see when reading back so that I don't let anything slip accidentally. If I staple it into my memory then I can't be lead astray. A secret isn't a secret once it has been told. This is angering me and my wrist is beginning to ache. I'm not used to this yet. Later, Christmas Tree. - Blake. •••• I laid the blunt pencil previously used down onto the cold stone floor beside me, glancing at it with slight interest through green sparkling eyes. The yellow paint was chipped, and in areas had peeled away to reveal patches of murky brown. The pencil itself was blunt, the guards outside the answer to that mystery. I rolled my eyes. Did they seriously think I would hurt myself or them with a pencil? How they got that idea I didn't know. I mean, I came here with slight muscle but the lack of food and other qualities has left me skinny and weaker by the day. Yeah, I could totally take on a muscular guard, seemingly part giant and with a baton tucked away the back of his belt. Riiiight... You begin to become observant to small things such as that after being here for so long. I guess numbness, confusion and anger mixed together has a strange effect. An amused smirk tugged on the corners of my chapped lips as I raised my head with the thought fresh in my mind, my attention drifting to the girl sprawled across my makeshift bed. I thought about calling the guards and telling then that it was her, and that she was right there. The one who actually burnt the house down. Last time however it didn't work, they wandered in to supposedly 'Just check', then laughed and patted my head with the baton before leaving after a brief glance around. She was right in front of them! I shook my head at this thought. I didn't want to be accused of being a time-waster again... The smirk now fallen from my translucent face, I closed by eyes and slumped back against the cell wall. A defeated glow illuminated the room. "Screw it," I murmured, before falling into a restless sleep as the shadows danced around my cell, the moon casting a small light onto my bed. The girl in the moons limelight smiled, cackled, and with a nod of her tilted head she disappeared as if she had never been there. Silence suffocated the plain grey room, the only noise the scuttle of the occasional rat and the uneasy heavier breath of the sleeping boy.