((This is a journal entry from my character Jordana. She tends to write things in quite sporadically. Here she’ll be detailing things she feels passionate about, her inner emotions, dark secrets, and maybe some stuff about her mental state as well. Unless someone were to find this journal they would not know any of these things IC. The journal itself is a small black leather notebook with a pen stuck inside it. Her handwriting is in cursive and it looks very neat. The journal’s usually in her backpack, underneath all the other shit in there or in her apartment, lying on her dresser. If anyone wants to RP going through her stuff and finding it, shoot me an IM. I’d be more than happy to help out. She’ll probably shit-talk a LOT of people in here, please don’t take offense OOC. Anyways, I’ll stop rambling and let you read what you came for.))

December 13th 2015,

Jesus. A full year. A year since my life went to shit. A year since everything went to shit really. I’m not really sure whether I should celebrate the fact that I’m alive or mourn it. Maybe I’ll do a bit of both. It feels so much longer than a year. It feels like it’s been like this forever. I don’t remember what it feels like to wake up and walk outside and not have to worry about anything other than paying bills and if my hair and makeup looks okay. I miss being woken up at 3am because of some stupid fucking train. I miss the annoying stupid little shit like that. I thought it was so annoying at the time, but now I’d trade anything to go back to the way things were. Even with Ricky. Even with all the fucked up shit he was doing. Maybe if things hadn’t gone like this I would’ve eventually gotten my head out of my ass and got my life together. I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I’m thinking about getting ridiculously drunk and locking myself in my apartment for the rest of the day.

I finally talked to Brett. Told him what I had to say. He was just real cryptic. Something about not being able to have the things we wanted. I assume he was talking about wanting me, but I don’t understand. Maybe there’s just too many rules for him. I feel bad about it. I really do. I think he mentioned something about talking today, when his head would be clearer. Last night it was so late, I don’t really blame him. I was tired too. Maybe things will change. Regardless, I just wanted to let him know that I’m here for him.

I still haven’t seen Lina. I’m worried. Her apartment has been empty. No signs of activity. I’m afraid she might’ve left town. There’s nothing that points to where she might be. I hope she’s okay. I just don’t want her to be afraid. I wish she would’ve told me where she was going.

The nightmares have been on and off lately. Some nights I get them, some nights I don’t. It’s nice to finally be able to sleep comfortably. Each time it’s a different person. One person I can’t save. One person I killed. One person’s death I’m responsible for. I wish that hadn’t happened. A year ago, I would’ve never thought about killing someone.

I think I’m going to tell people the truth now. Forreal this time.

Love, Jasmine