Searching for my Happily Ever After.

Nothing much to relate.

Love is a fire which burns uncertainly, but consuming you. So hot and fierce, but sometimes it flickers.

Depression is the silver blade, glinting in the dim light, being drawn slowly across the pale skin, making the crimson liquid come forth, running down, contrasting with the porcelene flesh. Bringing relief to the burning dull inside, if only for a while.

I think I might use that for my original piece for English GCSE. And no you cannot use it. It's mine. It's me. It's too much me for you.

Death is the blind step to the jagged rocks below.

What will come after death? Will there be God, waiting there to judge me? Where would I go if that is the case? What would he think of my life?

Maman thinks I'm anaemic again. I wonder if I'll have to start taking Iron tablets again? I like the taste of blood. It's sort of sweet and salty, slightly metallic. I keep on bleeding. I've been getting frequent nosebleeds, and the skin around my fingernails just starts to bleed. And once it starts it doesn't stop.

Someone hit me with a badminton racket today. I came up with a bruise almost immediately. I felt like accidentally-on-purpose hitting her around the head with the shuttlecock. Mighta been fun. Getting my sweet revenge in little ways to come against all the persection I've had to endure all these years. They can't just accept that I'm me and will never change.

I'm pissing all my friends off. I keep getting the feeling that my friends are getting annoyed and maybe not wanting to have anything to do with me. Maybe I'm paranoid. Kate says that maybe it's that everyone's grown up over the holidays and are caring about fitting in but there's me who doesn't really care. If fitting in means changing then I don't want to fit in. I'm not so different from everyone else. I don't know why I don't fit in. I think about music and boys and stuff. I'm just not a bloody giggling bimbo, that's all!

People tend to victimise other people. I can't see any discernable difference so I don't know why some people are picked on while others aren't.

William has a good taste in music. A song by Manau. I heard the band name and recognised it. I heard the chorus and recognised it. I think I must have heard it in France when I was young. I'm going to miss Nan. I'm going to miss Grandad. He won't last much longer. We all think he's only alive now because Nanna told him not to die before she did.