Dear Diary...Tell Me Who I Am

My turn at cataloguing my past, contemplating my present, and possibly foretelling my future. Feel free to peek inside my peculiar little brain, you might find something you like, and something you thought you might have lost.

I don't profess to have a special life.

Really, I don't.

Trust me, I dislike the people who always say that. I've met those people who say they're "special", as if they're a brand new creation, deserving of a different path to everybody else. Usually, those people aren't in my friends, and they're the type of person I work with when the teacher says so, or for the sake of politeness at a social.

But I wouldn't say I was boring either.

Do I think I was different from those around me at points in my life? Yes. Do I think that makes me better? No, not at all. I've been through things in my life, the odds are many have had it better than me, and more than many have had it worse. I won't write this to make you feel sorry for me, wish you were me (odds are, by the end, you'll be glad you're not), and the last thing I want you to do is hate me. Like all stories that I write, the arcs I create, the worlds I design, I make them so others can understand.

That's what I'm always thought a book was, a story. But not of the characters, that's just on the surface, beneath there's a story about the writer, their philosophy on life. We write so others can understand us, and we write so we can understand ourselves

And this is just one story.

This is about me.

I want fame. I've never been shy about it. I have dreams, and I have aspirations. I wish that I could tell you that I never knew my path, then I could tale you a harrowing adventure of self-discovery, and this would become a wonderful bilsdungroman that young children look to for guidance. (I'd advice against that last one, be creative and mess up in your own way). The truth is, I've always believed my path was decorated with glitter and lights. Not in the way that a little girl wants to be a singer and have a sold-out concert, their names in bulbed lights, or the way she wants to be an actress and strut down the red carpet with paparazzi and fans screaming her name. But I want to be known, and I have a plan to make that come true.

I know it's highly unlikely my life will go to plan, but I'll try anyway. I want to be a writer, I want to spend four years reading and writing literature, make my family proud. I want to become an English teacher, to inspire as I was inspired by my teacher - and because I know my dream will take time. I will send off manuscripts for a few years, and then I want to be published and see the world. I want to touch hearts like writers have touched mine, I want to give somebody the enjoyment I have from absorbing into a world that isn't my own. I want to spend my career imagining, and I want to talk about my work for hours on end and have people listen to me without sneering or scoffing.

But before I get there, before I even get close to accomplishing my dreams, there are things I have to do first. My dad would always tell me, you have to know where you've been, to know where you're going. I was eight when he first told me that, and when you're a little girl dealing with bullying and the changing world (and the notion that, one way or another, you must change with it), my response was usually, unless where you've been will only keep you there.

I understand him now though, the old man does have some wisdom left in him. Once, when somebody asked me if I would go back and change my past, I said no. I still say no, the things I went through brought me here. Now I feel happiness, I have friends who I can call sisters, I have a loving family, fictional and real, and I have writing. 

But there is one thing I would say to my younger self. I would never tell her not to do what she did, all I would do is tell her that, whatever happens, it gets better. Because as a young girl, I had dreams, I had fantasies and I had a heart.

But I never had much faith.

The End

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