My name is Kim Kibum, I’m a sixteen year old boy living in Daegu, South Korea. I love school, I love learning and writing. But most of all, I love my journal, It’s my best friend. I'm about to start a new school year, my first of High school. This new school is a very high ranking one in the educational circuit, full of well educated students and staff. I’m rather nervous about attending all of my classes, I hope it all goes well for me. I’m rather quiet and keep to myself, only speaking through my writing’s in my journal. My journal has been with me more than any one person my whole life, It’s my best friend.

The night before school began I gathered all my supplies, being sure to set my journal beside my book bag after putting in the night’s entry. I sat on my bed, pen scribbling away on the thin lines across the pages. “ All of my things are here, yet there’s this waking fear. The fear that I won’t belong again. The fear of being ignored. The fear of not being accepted. I’m so apprehensive for the day to break, for now I lie awake in fear... Apprehensive to be myself, that’s what it is. I need help.. help me, My friend.”  I clicked my pen closed and set it aside, tenderly closing the cover of the worn, clearly loved journal of mine and placing it down on the table by my bed. I shut out the light and lay back on my bed in the darkness, eyes slowly falling shut when they could no longer stare off into the darkness.

The morning came after a night of vividly lucid and eccentric dreams. I woke and rose from bed, the fear from before washing over me again. My mind was screaming all sorts of things, telling me I was to make a fool of myself, and that I was never going to fit in. I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my right shoulder after changing into my school uniform and brushing my teeth and hair, grabbing my journal and clutching it tightly to my chest. “Let’s go, my friend...” I said shakily as i headed to the bus stop. I waited a few minutes for the bus before paying and boarding, settling in my seat for the hour long trip to school. Finally I arrived and managed to navigate my way through the sea of High school boys and find my classes, sitting down in an open seat inside my home room class room. I noticed all the wandering eyes, but tried to pay no mind, gently running my fingers over my Best friend’s cover, trying to calm myself, feeling much like an animal in a zoo.

The week began slow, mostly all paperwork for the classes and school. I already noticed that I was being ignored, not a single person had spoken to me all week, yet I didn't mind much. I had my journal, it was all I needed. Every night I opened my journal, jotting down the nitty-gritty details of each and every day. As the weeks progressed the ones that ignored me began to show signs of aggression, they shoved me, glared at me, called me names, tried to make me do thing for them like their homework. My journal was the only one that listened to me and didn’t judge me, It was all I needed, my only and best friend. I wrote out my pain and anger in it’s pages, recording all the words they called me, the ways they tried to make me their slave. I wrote for hours on end, going through page after page, filling it full of my torturous days of high school. My anger and pain melted down to ink, staining the pages with black tears.

I was sitting out in the lush, grassy courtyard at lunch, resting beneath one of the tall cherry trees, holding my Journal close to my chest, daydreaming of what a normal life would be. A voice sounded behind me, a loud, rough, mean laugh.  It was the group of upper class men that loved to make my life miserable.  One boy grabbed hold of my journal and ripped it from my hands, the others joining in as he tore the pages from the binding cover.  I panicked,  watching in horror as they murdered my best friend before my very eyes, my fears, thoughts,  my Life ripped apart page by page. It was over in a matter of seconds, the group of boys fleeing as the contents of my journal fell to the ground

I fell to my knees, clutching the pages to my chest,  gathering them as quickly as I could. I tried to hold in my emotions,  stuffing the pages back into the worn out cover. There was another voice behind me, but it was a new one, a softer, more gentle voice.  

"Are you okay?" The upper class man asked, bending down to help me pick up the scattered pages.

I couldn't reply,  the shock still taking effect on me. I watched as he picked up a few pages,  reading the dark poems and thoughts bled out onto the pages, soaking them up like a sponge.  I cared more about my journal, my best friend.  It was ruined, gone, forever.  The boy managed to get my attention and smiled at me, taking the book from my hands and tossing it in the garbage.  My eyes widened as I stared in horror,  then he spoke again.  "My name is Kim Jonghyun." He took my hands,  looking at my with those deep, dark brown puppy-dog eyes and grinned, his voice soft and sincere.  "I'll be your new Journal."

He couldn't have been more true to his word. Whenever I needed to vent he was there, listening to every word, soaking it in, helping me through it, no matter what. For once in my life someone paid attention to me, listened to me, and cared about me. Just like my first journal, I went everywhere with  him, keeping as close as possible,  hand in hand.  He became my best friend,  leading me out of my shell and out of the darkness of the past.  He helped me meet friends and become more confident in myself. My journal was my best friend, but now he was my Lover.  My very first boyfriend.  He was the best Journal ever, so much better than the one before. My name is Kim Kibum and I love my new school, new friends, and most of all, my new journal, Kim Jonghyun.