‘Diary entry number five. Today I am actually going to say something related to me. Ok, here goes. My name is Josiah E Thomas. See, the E doesn't really stand for anything but my mother thought it would make me stand out because every child's dream is to stand out for their weird characteristics.  And what do you know my second name was a single letter, like having two first names for a first and a last name didn't make me stand out already. But that's okay. I get to pretend the E stands for something cool and different like Echuardo or something. If anyone asks I can always say whatever name comes to mind. I won't though. I mean...

I mean, I don't actually talk to people. See I have this small problem when I am in public or crowded scary places which are basically everywhere. My tongue curls up in my mouth and just stops working. That's a big problem. A very big problem considering I am the only witness to the arson that happened to my home. Detective Morales thinks i am too traumatised by the fire to talk and my father and his wife bless their hearts, think I was traumatized by my mother's death to talk. 

But my therapist Dr Candie Getrude, yes with an i-e not a y, I asked. Says it's both, plus my already present issues of anxiety, depression and other psychological things that happen to 3 in every 25 teenage boys. Yes, I know what I am saying. I bet you probably have one of these two or you know someone who does. 

Anyway, I am recording this diary thing because Dr Candie thinks this will help me prepare for outside conversations. Personally, I think it's not doing much but my father and his wife, (she insists I call her mum but I am not there yet. Anyway, my father and his wife said Dr Candie is world-renowned which means she is very smart and her word is law. Plus this is the only thing that solely belongs to me in a house of seven kids so, why not. 

Ok, so I think the only reason Dr Candie is making me do this is because she thinks I will forget how to talk. But the thing is I do talk, I mean in my head obviously not physically or out loud. I imagine my best friend that I had to leave behind when my dad and his wife took me in. My best friend, Harris, was cool and suave and he liked pineapples on his pizza because he said, "Only exotic fun people can understand this delicacy." . Yeah he was an idiot but he was also cool. Now, I have a substitute Harris to speak to whenever I can't make my words come out. So you see what I mean? I won't forget to talk. ’

"Josiah! Hurry up, you are going to be late."

‘That's my older brother Killian, he is not very patient. Anyway, so I know at this point you are thinking I don't actually speak out loud like ever besides during these video diaries but I do speak. When I am alone with my dad or one of my brothers or sisters. You know when it's the two or three of us. It's really simple to understand if I put it this way. My tongue is shy when more than three people are present.  It wasn't always like this of course. It's just these past six months that it decided to stop working but that's why I have Candie, I mean Dr Getrude. 

Speaking of... I need to go. So ...signing out or whatever. You know Dr Getrude should give out manuals for her assignments. It's kind of hard to figure out how one is supposed to 'practice' talking.’

I pushed off the desk chair and shut my laptop. Then with a little morning fart and a pillow smashing into his face Jacob was up and ready to go. Of course being a twelve year old doesn't really leave room for other things. Note the sarcasm. According to Jacob, twelve year olds are busy people and they don't have time to waste on things like breakfast and morning conversations. Which works out fine for me because there is more food and I don't talk. But my father refuses to let anyone out of the door without a full meal. Which is why Bobbly and I end up racing downstairs to see who gets there first. 

It's me, it's always me. I don't have to say it because with one look Jacob knows and we all just dig into our food like we do every morning for the past six months.  

And like every Monday my father's wife drops me off at Dr Getrude's office so that everyone can enjoy their extra hour at home before going to school. And some people say these are my best years, ha! They must be delusional.

Dr Getrude's office is pretty bland. As bland as an office can get. I think it's because she doesn't want me to wander off as I make scenarios about her bright pink office lamp having debate tournaments with her dull old humidifier. I mean, imagine what would happen. Her sessions would never end. As it is now. They don't end. It's always a lot of talking and probing. Some days I leave with a headache, other days I leave with a hole in my chest. Not a bad all consuming black hole but more of an empty slot on a bookshelf. You know, waiting for someone to return the book it borrowed.