Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Sunday, April 21, 2013
The Diary
September 9th, 2002
Dear Diary,
Last year we learned how to write. I'm doing pretty good the teacher says but I still get confused. I like to write in you diary but people are starting to make fun of me for bringing you around with me everywhere. Mom told me to just keep you home but I don't want my brother to steal you. He has done it before. People don't understand that when I write in you I forget why I was afraid, or why I was nervous. Life is like one big story and I get scared sometimes that someone will write the wrong thing. No body understands that i use you diary to keep me company. I don't have very many friends right now. I like to make up stories too. Instead of fighting with a bully, in you I can fight a dragon. That seems more adventurous, more fun. Instead of my brother being mean to me, in you I can take down a troll. It's not much different but it is in my eyes diary. You're not mean to me diary, you don't even talk. But with a simple story of mine I could make you talk. You could be my real life friend to talk to. That would be cool.
June 9th, 2013
Danielle read the last lines of the journal entry she wrote when she was just a little girl. Things were so much different now, and so much the same. She still didn't have very many friends, but she didn't care anymore. The friends she had were enough. It didn't really seem to matter anymore if people liked her or not. She was leaving, they were leaving. She doesn't need her diary to keep her company anymore. Her thoughts can do that.
"Danielle time to go or we'll be late," Danielle's mother called up the stairs.
It was time to go. Didn't want to be late for her own graduation. All those years of school leading up to this one moment of history. Another chapter. Another story.
There was one thing the Danielle from the Diary entry had in common with the present Danielle. She still loved to write stories. That's were her life was taking her even. She still fought dragons and trolls. She felt like she always would, too.
Dear Diary,
Last year we learned how to write. I'm doing pretty good the teacher says but I still get confused. I like to write in you diary but people are starting to make fun of me for bringing you around with me everywhere. Mom told me to just keep you home but I don't want my brother to steal you. He has done it before. People don't understand that when I write in you I forget why I was afraid, or why I was nervous. Life is like one big story and I get scared sometimes that someone will write the wrong thing. No body understands that i use you diary to keep me company. I don't have very many friends right now. I like to make up stories too. Instead of fighting with a bully, in you I can fight a dragon. That seems more adventurous, more fun. Instead of my brother being mean to me, in you I can take down a troll. It's not much different but it is in my eyes diary. You're not mean to me diary, you don't even talk. But with a simple story of mine I could make you talk. You could be my real life friend to talk to. That would be cool.
June 9th, 2013
Danielle read the last lines of the journal entry she wrote when she was just a little girl. Things were so much different now, and so much the same. She still didn't have very many friends, but she didn't care anymore. The friends she had were enough. It didn't really seem to matter anymore if people liked her or not. She was leaving, they were leaving. She doesn't need her diary to keep her company anymore. Her thoughts can do that.
"Danielle time to go or we'll be late," Danielle's mother called up the stairs.
It was time to go. Didn't want to be late for her own graduation. All those years of school leading up to this one moment of history. Another chapter. Another story.
There was one thing the Danielle from the Diary entry had in common with the present Danielle. She still loved to write stories. That's were her life was taking her even. She still fought dragons and trolls. She felt like she always would, too.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
A letter to myself
Before I write this letter I want everyone to think about this: this letter isn't about you, it's about me. Don't read it if you relate things to yourself. I didn't write it to make you angry at me, or to attack you in anyway. This isn't a veiled criticism of anyone. I don't want questions on this letter either. This is one of those things that you feel and have to express, but don't really want to talk about. After you read this.....forget you read it. And more than anything, know that this letter isn't written to you, it's a letter from myself...to me.
Dear You,
I don't like you all the time. Sometimes the things that you stand for are just not me at all. We become separate. There are sometimes you do stuff and don't even think about the way I feel. All you think about is you're own sorrow, and your own helplessness. You don't think that there are people out there that feel the way you are feeling. You're sad, I get that, I'm sad too. But that's exactly my point! I'M SAD TOO! I cried too. I cried because of the same thing. You expect to be consoled without wanting to console. We're the same, but not, because I handle the pain differently. I cry by myself, and then forget about the fact that I cry. You stop yourself from crying and then dwell on the pain. You try to forget the reason for sorrow, I remember why I cried and try to say "It'll be OK eventually". You fix the problem no matter what. I fix the problem, as long as it is a healthy fix. You try to be blind, when I try to be deaf.
Sincerely Me
Dear You,
I don't like you all the time. Sometimes the things that you stand for are just not me at all. We become separate. There are sometimes you do stuff and don't even think about the way I feel. All you think about is you're own sorrow, and your own helplessness. You don't think that there are people out there that feel the way you are feeling. You're sad, I get that, I'm sad too. But that's exactly my point! I'M SAD TOO! I cried too. I cried because of the same thing. You expect to be consoled without wanting to console. We're the same, but not, because I handle the pain differently. I cry by myself, and then forget about the fact that I cry. You stop yourself from crying and then dwell on the pain. You try to forget the reason for sorrow, I remember why I cried and try to say "It'll be OK eventually". You fix the problem no matter what. I fix the problem, as long as it is a healthy fix. You try to be blind, when I try to be deaf.
Sincerely Me
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