Dear Journal,
Ya know I never really thought of myself as a journaling person but here I am essentially talking to myself! Ok well let me tell you about myself Hi I'm John and I am 14 yrs old. So what do people talk about when they get a journal. hmm. I don't know. I had never really given that much thought on the subject. Oh well I have to do my homework and Friends is coming on so I will have to talk to you later.
Hey its me again, sorry I just couldn't sleep and I decided to write to you! Now don't you feel special? Ha! I have a feeling you and I are going to be good friends. Do you know why? Well I shall tell you! You are the ideal friend, you won't tell secrets, and you won't give bad advice or squeal on me. I'm getting really tired now that I have gotten up so I will have to call it a night. Good night best friend.

Dear Journal,
"Wow!" Today really was my day. I scored two count them, two touchdowns in P.E. today. After school I talked with the guys, AKA Sam, Frank, and Ben; they are trying to plan an outing this upcoming weekend with Beverley and Sandra. I really like Sandra now since she has been being nicer to me lately. Frank said the only reason she was being mean was because she liked me. Wait a minute; if she is mean to me when she likes me and nice to me she doesn't, I think I want her to be mean again, because I like her now. "No!" I want her to be nice so that I can tell her. "Don't I?" Oh, well. Girls are way too complicated.
What else happened today that I can tell you about, hmmm.? I had another one of those stupid bad headaches again. This time it was so bad I had to go to the school office and lie down. What was it Doc. Jones called them? "Migraines" was the word I think. Well, I have to go now and do my homework so until tomorrow. P.S. Dad is finally coming home from his conference tomorrow. I can't wait to tell him about my touchdowns!

Dear Journal,
Today wasn't as good of a day as yesterday was. I couldn't finish my English test because my right hand was too weak to grip the pen. I just told the teacher I didn't know the rest of the questions. I was getting kind of scared because that's pretty serious business isn't it? Oh shut up John it's not serious I'm just being a wimp. But man it was so embarrassing.
We got to watch a movie in history which meant "Nap Time!" That had to have been hands down the best in-school nap I have ever taken. Now I know you're not going to believe me on this one, but you have to. I barely believed myself but hay I have to because I'm the one who saw it. Ok, here goes. When I was waking up from my history nap I could have sworn that in the corner of my eye I saw the desk next to me floating, but when I turned to look it had resumed its natural position. At first I was scared because I was seeing a desk floating. I very seriously doubt I was the only one that saw the phenomenon. I mean it was as plain as day! Oh, now I get it they all saw it but no one wanted to say anything for fear of looking or sounding crazy. I'm going to look into this further; I'll ask around and see if anyone else saw it. Let's get of the subject of science fiction and on to non-fiction.
I got to sit by none other than the wonderful Miss Sandra Conrad today at lunch. We didn't talk much, but I could tell she enjoyed my company because she kept glancing at me, and whenever I would catch her glance she would blush. It just occurred to me that you don't have any idea what Sandra looks like. Ok be prepared to have your socks knocked off, Sandra Conrad is tall with brown, shoulder-length hair, and the prettiest green eyes I have ever seen. Beverly mentioned to me today that Sandra might want to go to the Halloween dance with me. It's coming up in about a month. I almost fell down when she told me this. I have liked Sandra probably as long as I can remember!
Dad came home this afternoon, like I said. When he came through the front door, I gave him a big hug. He threw me off in an angry manner saying, "Boys don't hug other boys." Everything I do is either not quite good enough or totally wrong in his eyes. Sometimes I wonder what could be wrong with me. Can't I do just one thing right!?
I think Dad still blames me for my Brother Tucker's accident. Brace yourself because this is a pretty long story. Two years ago it was a cold, November morning, and I was supposed to be watching Tucker while he climbed some trees in the woods. He eventually got bored with the small trees and he went off on a long walk in search of the ultimate tree to climb. Meanwhile I was preoccupied by this little squirrel, he was so cute the way he would stuff nuts into his cheeks. Apparently Tucker climbed up a tree trying to catch a woodpecker, he stepped on a week limb and fell. He was paralyzed from the waist down. Tucker and Mom forgave me, but I don't think dad has yet. Dad always used to talk about the big dreams he had for Tucker. I remember once when Dad got so mad, at something that happened at work, he came home in a rage and screamed at me, "You ruined Tucker's future! He was going to be a soccer player or a runner! But you took his future from him and then had the guts to say it was an accident! I knew you were always jealous of him!" But what made matters worse was when I started crying and he picked me up and threw me onto the couch and put his finger in my face and said that God hates liars. You see I never was much of an athlete but Tucker was Dad's trophy.
I bet your wondering why I'm not outside helping Dad chop wood to store in the cellar. Well, I went out there and chopped a few but on my third swing; my right hand became so weak I dropped the axe. I was hoping that Dad didn't see but he did, and he yelled at me and told me how much of a weakling and a liar I was. He knew I didn't want to do it from the beginning so it was all the more worse.
After that, I started thinking that maybe my weakness has been my body rebelling and saying "You're not going to do this because you don't want to." That would make some sense because I didn't want to chop wood or take the English test in the first place.

Dear Journal,
Sorry I haven't written in like a month, partly because I couldn't find you for the longest time. Here's an update on my floating desk. No one else saw it, and its not just desks that can float, I have seen other things float on bye while I wasn't paying attention. It's weird because I can't focus on them directly. Maybe it's my eyes?
Today was also a very sad day in more ways than one. I know your thinking well how could today be sad since today was the day I had to go to Sandra's and help her with her math homework. Just wait and see (Those faint of heart turn away now for this is the most terrifying thing that has entered my plain of vision as of yet). I went home with Sandra after school as I have already told you, but the problem didn't arise until we entered the realm of solving equations and Sandra got so frustrated with one problem she stormed of to the bathroom and didn't return for sometime. But when she did return she had on a long sleeve sweater and if she hadn't made the comment of how hot it was in her room before she left this would have gone unnoticed to me. I asked her about it and she started screaming "Why does it matter! I thought you were here to help me with Math not fashion!" I grabbed her arm to calm her down but when I did it was wet. A red syrupy substance began to seep through the fabric. I pulled back her sleeve and she had carved the words "Life Sucks" in her arm. I was disgusted and frightened at the same time as to why someone would inflict so much pain onto themselves.
I immediately ran out of her room, out of her house, and I just kept running. About halfway back to my house, I began to feel sick and my right arm was totally numb. When I got inside I tried to lean on the wall with my right arm but it collapsed. I fell on the floor and started vomiting. It was the worst sensation I have experienced, my arm was numb, I was vomiting and I was beginning to get a headache.
Mom, Dad, Tucker, and I got into the car and headed for the hospital. Now after that it gets kind of blurry. I remember the doctor asking me what was wrong and if I had any other symptoms. I told him about the floating things, and he went outside and talked with my parents for a long time. They took me home, and the next day drove me up here to Tranquil Acres Mental Hospital, they signed me in and checked me out of their lives.

Dear Journal,
Man it's been awhile hasn't it? This is the first time that the orderlies have let me use a pen for something that wasn't related to school work; they said I may have suicidal tendencies. You can consider this my last entry because I got made fun of by this guy in group therapy because I said I kept a journal.
It's been almost one year and five months since I was admitted here at the "Nut House". I'm sixteen now and all the normal kids are outside learning how to drive and are going on dates, while the selected few who are staying here are denied that.
It's not all bad I guess; I'm doing much better in therapy than I was at first, partly because I tell them what they want to hear. In reality things are worsening, the floating desks have gone away now, but turned into walls. My headaches are sometimes so severe I cry. It's gotten to the point where my whole right are is always weaker than my left.
I wonder why all those things happen to me. I can't get an explanation out of anyone as to the exact reason I was landed in here. The orderlies just look at me, and my therapist tells me the same old thing every time. "Well, why don't you tell me that", is what he says. I wish I could just be normal. "Why me? Why do I have to suffer?"
My parents have totally abandoned me; they just keep paying the bill so I'll stay locked out of their lives forever. The last time I saw my father was a year ago. I wish I wasn't such a screw up, I wish I could make him proud instead of making him want me to disappear.

Dear Journal,
I'm sorry I lied, I managed two years but I just had to tell someone what happened today and you were the only one I could think of because I don't have many friends here. They say I may be going home within the next few months or weeks even. "Going home, to what?" I haven't seen my family in almost two years; I might as well be dead to them, as long as they have the perfect child.
I was doing my school work in study hall today and I had to pick one word to describe me and my life. Several words ran through my head, crazy, freaky, weird, bad etc. It wasn't until I came across the word ignis fatuus it meant many different things but the one definition the stood out to me was "An illusion that misleads" I knew then that I had found my word. My disorder and my family are all misleading illusions to me.
You will never guess who I saw in the lunch room today, Sandra Conrad. I guess her parents finally found out about her little problem so she will be staying here until she gets better. I could barely recognize her, her hair was tangled, her skin was as pale as snow, and her eyes that once held that majestic spirit were merely empty.
That was the first sign I got that the outside the white walls of the hospital the world had left me behind. I've wasted three years of my life in this place and to everyone else I'm getting better everyday, but I know and you know I'm screaming inside. I'm screaming for it to stop. I wish the world would just stop so I could get off this horrific ride.

Dear Journal,
I got a phone call today; it was from my dad. He said that he loved me and that he would come pick me up in my new car on Sunday. That's two days from now. The head nurse finally let me see my file and it said I was a recovered Pathological Liar and Hypochondriac. I know I'm not anywhere near recovered, but I'm functioning ok like this. Who am I kidding? I can't drive if I see other cars floating by me! I'll manage, I always have. My dad loves me; he'll know exactly what to do. P.S. I have changed my life word to loved. P.S.S. Thank you God I'm going home!
John Wingate was found dead in his room
at Tranquil Acres Mental Hospital on the
morning of Sunday May 1970, he was 17. An
autopsy later revealed that his symptoms were
those of a benign, slow growing tumor in his cerebellum.
"He it made home"