I stared silently and unmoving at my gift or rather a theparist for me as it seem to me. My father had given it to me as a gift of encouragement. In my eyes, it was not a gift of encouragement. It was just something my father thought of so I could use a friend. The friend was just lying there on the table boredly with no sign of being alive. It was like if it was mocking me. It was teasing me. It was pitying me. It was staring at me.

It was a journal.

I'll repeat that. It was a journal.

What was I suppose to do with a journal?

I had asked my father who gave this thing which was now staring at me smugly in my eyes. He said it was a gift of encouragment to resolve and be there for me when I was in deep conflict in my life. Right when he the last part, I wasn't sure this person was my father or that he was drunk. I was sure of number one since I know what reaction my father does when he drinks. He continued on. He said if I ever needed to talk about my feelings to someone, it would be journal.

He recommended I put my thoughts in a journal.

I'll repeat that. I put my thoughts in a journal.

There was another message my father had gave me when I recieved this present. The translation of this present I recieved was 'Get a life.' I know. That's is plain harsh. He gave me a harsh message as a present and a gift of encouragement. That's harsh.

When he gives a message like that, he means it. Getting a life means extracurricular activities, active activitesactivities where people notice you.

I sighed. I never expected encouragement would lead such a big impact on my life. It was only for 1 year anyway. How much could happen? Buttoday was not day 1 with my present. And it was only the beginning. The real thing starts tomorrow.

To be continued...