Yesterday was the worst day ever. I lost my journal which had all my stories and thoughts in it. I love writing and do it all the time. I think I know someone who might have taken it, and I want it back. Some people may think its just a journal but for me, it's an escape. When I'm feeling bad, I write. When I have good ideas, I write. I know what your thinking; start a new book. NO. I have all this writing and I need to find it. There's no starting over. I don't understand why people have to be so stupid and touch my stuff. Oh well. It's just another example of me being pushed around, and no one caring about my feelings