I’m walking then the murmur of people get my attention. Then I see him. Standing infront of everyone, acting as if he’s some celebrity. I front of these people he is.
But what he has in his hands makes my heart stop. My confessions.
“Look the woman of the hour. Our very own Jenna.” He takes a pause and then stares into my eyes. He comes down from his pedestal and comes towards me. “You wouldn’t tell me anything, but this will.” He whispers while waiving my confessions in front of my face.
“Please... don’t do this. I’m begging you.” I plead with him. For the tiniest fraction of a second I think that I see him, the old him, but he’s too far gone and so am I.
I try to swing for the diary, but he’s 6ft 4. So it isn’t going to happen. Then like an emperor he clicks his fingers and his henchman hold me down while he takes his rightful place. Above everyone.
He then opens the book and my heart is audiably broken. My sentence has come, and everyone will see.
“I’m writing to you my dear confidante to confess. I do not feel anything. I haven’t for a while. I looked at my self today, and nothing special looked back, in fact it turned away from me.
Some say that it’s just a part of growing up. The ‘hormones’ but don’t they just make your feel more? So where have these feelings come from?
Then I see it, I’m not beautiful like Mandy, or graceful like Clara, or incredibly intelligent like Leah. I’m just Jenna, and that’s all I’ll ever be.
Once upon a time I believed I could make it as a writer. That failed. No one looked at my books, it was all cliché romances, which everyone hated, yet my alternatives were never wanted.
I even hated them... yet I wanted that. True love, but someone like me is never destined for true love. We’re destined for reality.
I’m disgusted with who I am, I’m not enough for myself and that means I’ll never be enough for anyone. I can’t bear to look at myself as all I can see is failure.” He then snaps the book closed.
“Aww, poor little Jenna, didn’t make it big did we? Were you hoping to be a loved writer? With adoring fans. Pathetic. Not very pretty are you? Never good enough.” He said aloud.
He then came forward and bent down within earshot of me. “That’s because you don’t have the talent like all the successful authors. You have to be good at writing to be recognised. And darling, you are right.”
He just laughs and walks away. Everyone came to see the confession and the confession was delivered.
HEY I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THAT. IF YOURE A WRITER OR READER THIS GIVES A SEMI INSIGHT ON HOW WE WRITERS SOMETIMES FEEL. SO DO SUPPORT US AND FOLLOW ME ON WATTPAD. @Jennablack15 ITS FREE!!