6/21/2012
I'm just so fucking sick and tired of all the BS, especially from my so-called parents. What the hell is their problem? Why the fuck did they have a kid if they were gonna treat me like this?

6/22/2012
They haven't let up on all the fucking yelling and screaming and the cursing and the occasional throwing of objects since yesterday. I just wanna fucking die. Right now. I can't stand any more of this for another single minute. They hate me and it's not like I have anyone outside this shithole anymore. They made fucking sure of that. Scout left me saying she couldn't stand what I was doing and my batshit insane family. Sandra, my best friend of 3 years, said she couldn't take it anymore, all that I did. Ashley doesn't even give a fuck about me anymore, he's just interested in his women. This needs to end. Maybe in pills.

The handwriting on this entry was shaky and splotched with tears.

"God." Mikey muttered. "The poor kid." Pausing for a moment in sielnce. What if this kid had died? He sounded pretty fucking serious about it. But maybe he wasn't dead yet!

With sudden hope, he flipped the page so quickly that it ripped nearly in half. With a sigh, he breathed relief. The spidery writing continued on the other side, nearly 3 weeks later.

7/12/2012
Finally fucking got home from that stupid ass hospital. Lost so much fucking time there I don't even wanna think about it. The place was fucking hell. Fucking pills didn't work. I shoulda used the knife too...

By now, Mikey nearly wanted to cry. He didn't even know who the fuck this guy was, but he felt the pain the other was going through. Sometimes, people like this pretended to be perfectly fine on the outside, but as shown here, they were fucking dying on the inside.

Just then, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Gerard.

"Hey Gee."

"Hey Mikes, you ok?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You look like you're gonna cry."

"I was just listening to this really sad song." Mikey said, gesturing to the headphones slung around his neck.

"Aha." Gerard said, not thoroughly believing him.

There was a tense silence between the two for several minutes, before the elder of them broke it, saying, "Me and Ray are gonna chill later."

"Okay."

"We want you to go."

"Okay."

"Mikey."

"Fine, lemme grab a pair of pants."

But even as the young Way squirmed his way into his overly tight pants, his mind was elsewhere, mainly on continuing to read the diary, and see who it was going through this pain.

When he got downstairs, the only thing Gerard told him was, "You're wearing my unwashed pants. From last week. Inside out. And backwards."