Searching for my Happily Ever After.

(Written diary, Sophia)

Dear Sophia,

Oh dear, I have neglected you for almost an entire ten days! Apologies for that - you'd somehow hidden yourself under a pile of clothes, you're lucky you didn't end up in one of my drawers.

Two days sans exams! Well, one because today's already here. They've really been laying exams on thick this week. I almost fell asleep in the History exam.

Going to Soton tomorrow to buy prom necklace and evening bag.

One would think I would be sick of writing but I'm not. I've been reading blogs, journals and stories all day. It's intruiging how people are so similar and yet so uniquely individual at the same time.

Multi-mind: putting the 'dual' into 'individual'!

Ha I made that up like last year, only it was 'Schizo-cream'.

Look: I haven't very far to go to the end of this. I think this diary's been my best so far, probably due to the fact that I've been as bored as hell and so have both the time and motives to write in here.

"A HAMMERING IN MY HEAD DON'T STOP IN THE BULLET TRAIN FROM TOKYO TO LOS ANGELES. LEAVING YOU BEHIND, A FLASH IN THE PAN, A STORM IN A TEACUP, A NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK, A PRIZE FOR THE WINNING, A DEAD FOR THE RAISING, A CATCH FOR THE CHASING, A *JEWEL* FOR THE CHOOSING, A MAN FOR THE MAKING IN THIS BLISTERING HEAT (sweat it all out)" - Hammering in my head by Garbage.

They re-tarmaced the road outside our house. First they removed the old top layer, leaving the ground uneven - looking like an old dirt track. Then came the tarmac. Glistening black and smooth, like a lake. Cars soon rippled the surface with their parrallel tracks until it finally solidified, strong again if for a while.

One can find beauty in the most seemingly ugly things.

Conflict in the house again. Mother never listens to me. If this was half a year ago I'd be slipping yet again into the blistering coldness of depression. But I will not allow myself to do that.

I'm in my room because there's nowhere else to go to. I daren't sit anywhere downstairs for fear of crumbs on the seats, food and slobber. I can't walk downstairs for unidentified things get stuck to my feet. In short - I hate Mum childminding. Another reason I can't sit downstairs is mother. Never letting me finish a sentence she thinks she can correctly guess what the end of it will be. No wonder I'm stuttering so much lately. I can't sit in the Games Room because the futon's cushion keeps falling down, and Ben's in there. Thus I am confined to my room getting a crick in my neck as a result of writing this resting it on my lap. Not enough light to the desk (9:19pm - dusk, the worst sort of light).

Ah yes, we now have a new sofa for the Games Room. Futon, to be precise. It's a Japanese thingy at ground level. Laura thinks it sounds like a sex-toy.

God I'll miss Laura.

Currently I have got Garbage playing very loudly. (just now it was on 20(that's one away from the flashing mode meaning very high indeed) but you know how it changes due to my blue-tac, volume, time, CD, track thing that I always do.) It's most enjoyable.

I am also contemplating painting my nails... which I shall do now.

1. (Insert extremely pale coloured lipstick mark here)

2. (Insert bright red coloured lipstick mark here)

1. Is the new lipstick mum bought me, it makes me look like I have no blood.

2. Is Mum's, the one I used two days ago when I was bored and dressed up as a chinese person. More on that later if I can be bothered.

9:48. I'm done with my nails. Dark purple. Sorta gothic... messy job of it though, I'll let them dry then I'll get rid of all the messy bits. That's the trouble with dark polish.

4 more of these exams left. Drama, Food, Physics and Nazi History. Then NO MORE!

Huzzah

(Insert terribly bad anime attempt of a male and the comment: "damn I just can't draw guys." scrawled untidily next to the sketch)

There is a character in Shanghai Baby called Ah Dick. Laura thought this highly amusing.

There are many different sorts of people in the world. Every one of them is unique, with a different personality, philosophies, their own stories to tell. Each one has a family and friends who, in turn, have their stories to tell. The whole world is a web of stories. Sometimes when I am sitting in the caf� I watch the people pass me by and feel hungry to know the stories. I mourn the fact that I will never know all of the stories in the world.

That there is an attempt at prose. Could become part of a bestselling book - keep your eye out!

G'Night

Kim xxx