Archive for September, 2012

Dear Diary…

02.12.01 (Age 15)

            Dear Diary,

There are so many sexy blokes in this world, how come I don’t know any of them? And when I do, how come they don’t know I exist? I go for older men. They are so much funnier and easy to talk to then younger men. I just can’t wait till I get older + they can look upon me as an equal. But even then I won’t be attractive. I’ll still be flabby and unfit, with a sticky-out chin, hooked nose and gappy teeth. I don’t understand how some people manage to be so pretty + have a personality, while some people manage neither.

              I admit, I may have more personality than many bimbos, but is it their good looks and being told how gorge they are that has made them slow in the first place? I suppose (and hope) that everything is evened out in some way or another, but I wish it were more obvious. Cosmetic surgery. Hmmm. Boobs. And a normal nose and chin. Need money. Hmmm.

            Going to get ready for bed + school now. Night night.

Love, Rosie


Before I knew I wanted to write, I wrote. From the age of eight until eighteen, without even realising I was doing it, I shared my thoughts with a diary on a semi-regular basis. It’s painfully embarrassing, occasionally cruel, frequently self-indulgent, arrogant, self-pitying, and ABSOLUTELY hilarious.

I’m typing up these diaries with a view to editing them for publication, if I still feel like they’ve got potential once they’re done.

It’s a very entertaining process, and occasionally worrying: sometimes I’m reading the words of a selfish brat who has no concept of the wider world or even the feelings of the people closest to her; other times I stumble across the same thoughts and feelings which haunt me now, only when I was fifteen apparently I was able to express them with more clarity than I can at twenty-six. And if the same issues still crop up with alarming regularity, what progress have I made in the past eleven years?

The above consideration is secondary to the process, of course, but it’s certainly interesting to me. Meanwhile, is it possible to distance oneself from a diary, even if it was written by a ‘different’ you, enough to edit, cut and improve a piece to its full potential? I don’t know yet, but I think I might be about to find out. Wish me luck!

Current word count: 38,000 words.

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