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Ever wondered what its like to feel like a star?

A celebrity?

Even when before, you were ridiculed?

I know.


6th May 2005
Dear Diary,

I'm twelve and already I'm beginning to show signs of being the world's most complex individual. I've built up walls which even the most intelligent neurologist would find confusing. I want the attention of the room, but I can't stand it if I get TOO much attention, like if a shirt accents my... assets and people notice. Then, I don't want to be pushed around. But I get completely annoyed if someone does everything I ask. I like to be thought of as a martyr but hate it when people call me a goody two shoes. The list goes on.

There is one trait that keeps coming up though. If people call me fat and ugly, I just ignore them. But I walk away knowing that they know I'm hurt. But it seems to be saving face if I accept it, even though I know I'm pretty, so I do... And people stay away.

It makes me want to hurt myself. But crash diets didn't work in the long run. Cutting myself didn't make me feel better, as advertised. I certainly couldn't bring myself to be bulimic.

So I have sunk into depression. Deep depression. Hopeless depression. Suicidal depression. It makes me feel good, that I feel bad. I enjoy feeling this way, feeling emo. It makes me feel like I have a personality, a unique personality. It makes me feel different from everyone else.

They can't take that away.

~

See? I know how it feels to be on the other side of the fence. Looking longingly in. Pretending like you just don't give a damn, when, all you do IS.

I'm not just a character someone made up and found a face for. No, I'm real.

I LOVE IT!!!!!! It's so powerfull! Very nice. I love how it leaves the reader guessing!!

10th June 2005
Dear Diary,


I always needed to be the centre of attention. Yes, I know how that puts me in a bad light. But it's true. At least I can admit it. I'm an attention whore.

That's probably why I've chosen a profession which allows me to wallow in it. Apart from that though? I love what I do. I wouldn't give up anything I love, especially not the arts. I can control my life through this, I can push aside the feelings of inadequacy, of loneliness, of anything. I didn't have to be taught that the world can seem like an endless Ferris wheel in the dark, bitter and cruel. In fact, I was told that life is a wonderful thing, something to enjoy. But when no one loves you, that's hard to do. I panic if I'm in complete darkness. Do you know why? Because I'm afraid that I can't see and am going blind to the beauty of the universe, even before I see it. Ironic you say. I call it hope.

I mention that no one loves me. well I'm sure there are SOME people. But I am speaking in general terms for now. I think because of my image charades, people don't bother to see very far. Few people get past the uncaring coldness that people say I give off. I give it off becuase I am lonely and hurt. But that just increases the bad chips on my side doesn't it? Yet it's not really something you let go of easily, I can tell you that.

still lovin' it!! Great, per usual. Very deep, well thought out.

19th July 2006
Dear Diary,

What does being real mean anyway? I'm sure every single person alive has misled someone else about their identity. So why is it such a big thing? Hypocrites. I'm surrounded by them.

Hypocrites may well be the worst kind of people, the worst kind of liar. They will tell you what you want to hear and then take it back. But what I fear most is that, maybe I am one too?

A cold loner is what I'm pegged as. But around people who know me, I am the outgoing one, the laughing one. Then later I go back.

Instances of truth sometimes shoot by me. I try to catch them. Without success.

Love it! Very relateable.

more, now!

gee whizzle i know it's been a looong time. I apologise, I've neglected my writing and it's time to get it back.

~~~

21st December 2005
Dear Diary,

Today I let myself go a little too far. I did something I really regret today.

It's the holidays, I figured I would never see him again, so I thought, I'll do it because he's treated me like worthless crap for almost all the time he's known me. No, I'm not talking about some loser ass boyfriend of mine. (Which I would probably not have right now, considering my looks and personality to the outside world. No, I'm talking about Amalie's boyfriend, Nate.

Once upon a time, Nate and used to be civil towards each other, in fact we were pretty friendly. In fact, Diary, you'll probably remember the monster crush I had on him. I don't know what the hell happened though. This year all he does is call me names, insulting my body.

People usually take for granted that, even during the times that they're jokes, negative comments do eventually take a toll on the person. For me, it was a gradual process, not caring at first, to defending myself, to blatantly ignoring them, to tearing up inside with that irritating frog in my throat.

Anyway, I digress. So Amalie was feeling pissed at him for not acknowledging that they were really together, and since I had fancied myself to be a matchmaker, I figured I would take out my anger on him, finally.

And I certainly did. The reply I got was totally... gut-wrenching. Telling me I was all sorts of crap, while he completely forgave her, with a kiss to seal it.

I can't even bear to read it again.

~

Then after that, of course, there was the great Fight Of 2005, my life changing experience that I have never forgotten. I had felt like Amalie had owed me something, like she didn't deserve my friendship.

While it was true she was rather selfish at times, who isn't? Maybe I was just glad to take the spotlight away from her for once, because before she had always been right. I had got the chance to break the friendship, and I had accepted it wholeheartedly, loving that for once, I had the upper hand.

Feeling pushed aside by someone better for the greater part of my life, I guess I had accounted this as an accomplishment.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

EDIT: I'm updating again because I feel I really need to, some things I gotta get off my chest.


~~~

13th January 2007
Dear Diary,

Sometimes I wonder what you would be like as a person. Would you be an emotional wreck from holding in everyone's secrets and life stories? Or would you be strong and invincible, like a great warrior, from getting through all the feelings and just coming out understanding life better as a whole?

Most people believe that I have amazing control over my emotions. I have never cried in public, not even in Pre-K.

But guess what? It's all one big, fat, enormous, gargantuan lie. Maybe the stone-hard face hides what the pirahnas inside are ripping apart. I've felt the anger, that all consuming rage, flare up during Science class, focusing laser beams onto test tubes. The overwhelming sadness where far into the depths of my chest, an unknown organ is being punched, throttled. Then, the full on despair, where my lifeless gaze smiles right through the chalkboard.

So maybe I am a better actress than they all realise, even though I may not have gotten into the competition cast for the Youth Festival, maybe I'm just better than they think.

Anyway. They being the code word for Catrinith, my day effectively turned sour before we even got to Arts and Crafts. Lately, she's been acting like she's awlla that and then some, while I'm going like "What am I, chopped liver?!" Last week, I got into a spat with her because she kept IM'ing me with pointless things like "My colour wheel's nicer than yours" "I'm a good worker, unlike you" and calling me a bimbo. I understand that to someone who wasn't there when everything took place, you'd think I was overreacting. But she'd been doing the same thing to me in school too, I just hadn't said anything. Then I'd exploded, kaboomed.

And here we go again. Today she was exactly the same, boastful and just plain aggravating.

Catrinith has a little obsession with alcohol. She thinks it's "cool" or something. While I do like cocktails and stuff, she always brags about what she gets to drink and how much she has consumed and how she's drunk in the morning. So then, today she was all "Have you had a daiquiri?" I told her I had, but I couldn't really remember what it was like. She then proceeded to call me a liar.

"Fine, if you don't believe me then that's your problem, GOD!"

"I'll be nice and tell you, blended ice."

Man, was I ever ticked off. Pissed like nobodys business. I had had it THREE YEARS AGO! And after we sat down, I happened to remember what a daiquiri glass looked like.

But you know what? I didn't bother. I just didn't bother. I realised how I had nothing to gain from proving myself to her. Instead, I was just icily polite to her the whole day, while mostly flat-out ignoring her. She seemed to have gotten the message, she barely said a word until the end of the day; a soft goodbye directed at my best friend.

I had pretty much gotten over my rage in the short timespan of about half an hour, which is quite amazing for me.

I think I handled the situation best I could, that's really all I can ask of myself.

~

In this business, people often assume that you're overstating your abilities, that the truth is hidden behind the frosted glass that is your image. I've always tried to hold up the highest standard of truth for myself, even though it's been so complex all my life.

The most significant thing though?

Knowing the truth in your mind, and never deceiving yourself.

Something I have failed to do in the past, but I came to my senses quickly, and have now transcended that young girl full of mistaken thinking to become someone even I can love.

It's deffinitely really good writing. Although, it's a little confusing. I can't tell whether the girl is already famous, or whether she's just writing entries in a diary and the fame will come later. I can most deffinitely relate to it in ways I don't even wanna describe, but if she's famous in the beginning, I woudl make the writing a little less deep.

okay, i have edited the previous posts, it's probably easier to get now.

~

17th February 2007
Dear Diary,

Today was effectively the best day of my life, maybe?

After almost two years of waiting, everything has fallen into place.

Ever since I was nine, people have been making me the target of their "fat and ugly" jokes. Now... Someone even nicknamed me "Model". I've always seeked approval from these people, it's hard not to, especially when they've caused most of those pesky self-esteem problems.

But now that I've finally got it, it just feels like I never needed it that much it the first place. Everything invoked these gorgeous feelings of almost... bittersweet nostalgia, without the pain. Just love for them, the people I spent two years of my life with, on.

All I wanted was to make my comeback, prove that I would be someone different. And I am. So different. You wouldn't know how much I've changed, if I ripped out my soul and shoved it into your hands. I smiled the whole day, I wouldn't know how to explain it, Diary. My essence just lit up, illuminating and exuding golden rays up to Heaven. It's kind of a feeling of... completion. In a way, it wasn't really a comeback. More like a "came back new".

This has just consumed all my thoughts the past day.

I don't know how I'm going to go back to regular school and not see the old gang. It'll be hard. Oh well, we move on right?

Really good! More!

16th May 2007
Dear Diary,

I think I just became myself. Maybe that doesn't make a whole lot of sense when I just say it like that, but it feels right.

I just watched a film called 200 Pounds Beauty. It didn't look like much more than a fluffy Korean flick that did little more than appeal to the masses. But as I was pulled into this girl, Hanna's life, I came to realise that I wasn't the only person who had been rejected for what I looked like once. That it had caused my heart to tear apart, just because I wasn't perfect. Not the perfect blend of skinny, pretty and brainy, but just the girl who loved to read, write and maybe sing in secret, because this was her passion, and she didn't want anyone to criticise her and crush her dreams. I identified so much with this talented girl with the delicate feelings, who stopped at nothing to become what someone else wanted.

When I passed by the window of someone's house, I caught my reflection, eyes shining bright with salt droplets. I took a good hard look, and realised that even though my face may look young, my soul is old and worn, even if I still don't understand a lot of things. I'm fourteen, the voice in my head tells me. You've lived only lived for about a decade. But the voice in my heart, my soul, whatever you call it from deep inside tells me otherwise. That I'm a mess of different people, all broken yet standing tall and strong, that I'm a million people who have lived a million lives.

Everything compounded, it just made it all hit me: I'm happy with who I am. I'm talented, intelligent and beautiful, inside and out. Anyone who tells me I'm otherwise is just wrong! I love my face, my heart, my hips, my thighs, my soul.

I guess you could say I'm finally growing up.