Jed's Story *title suggestions welcome!*

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July 1st, 2013

Today has been pretty boring. Every once in a while, there are times where everyone seems to have something to do. Terin has been up in the girls’ room painting, Cameron has been tapping away at the piano, Jerico and Kevin are trying to beat some computer game in the basement, and Annelies and Breanne have been drawing and playing dolls. No one even wanted to go swim, and I was too scared to go alone.

I’ve mostly just been reading and trying not to snack too much. I get the munchies when I read, and I don’t know why. I finally gave in, because it’s lunch time anyway. I asked Terin if he even wanted to go a short walk, and he said he couldn’t because he was “in the zone.” I asked Cameron, and he said, “I can’t, I have to get this piece right.” Kevin and Jerico just said they were busy. Computer games don’t count as “busy” to me.

I have bad writer’s block. I want to write a story, but I feel like I have nothing to say. Nothing to write about. Nothing happens here anymore. At times like this, I miss the troublemakers. At least nothing with them was ever dull.

I know it’s stupid of me to say that, but the thought has a way of sneaking into my head.

I intentionally left all my journals from my previous life at home when I left. I only brought this blank one with me (plus the notebook with my story ideas. No way I was leaving that). I wanted to leave my old life behind, but it hasn’t really turned out that way. I’ve written about stuff that happened then a lot since I left. And right now, I wish I had my old journals. I wish I could see my thoughts from sixth grade, (when I started keeping a journal) because without them, I can’t decide if I’ve changed as a person or not. I like to tell myself that I’m happier now than I was then, and that I’ve matured, but I’m just not sure. I think I’m happy until I think of home.

I’m going to need a new journal soon, but I don’t want to ask the Parkers to buy me one. Unfortunately, I have no money, and asking is pretty much my only option. I wish I was Cameron, who just prints music every once in a while and barely costs them anything. But no. I’m always needing more pens or pencils or notebooks, and now I need another journal. At least when I asked my parents I knew they had plenty of money.

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