Sometimes , one wonders why certain things occur, why does fate guide man one way, or the other. Of course it can be speculated by man but we cannot truly comprehend the matters of existence. We at least believed this for a long time, not until it was too late to change fate. Why to I write this tale of our false utopia slowly beginning to fall apart alike to a piece of bread between a persons fingertips? Why, because it matters to scribe history as it happens...
I frequently look back to the beginning, back when I was aloud to be carefree, then I remember the present and I see how much a world can change while living at the heart of the rebellion.As I wander through the desolate landscape, I see only destruction...
And hope...
1st September
To be frank with you, I don't know why I'm even writing this, I believe that I must be mad. I have begun to write a diary. Yes, I have stooped to a new low. Well, I've made my bed, now must lie in it. I have reached the point of no return. Well, I'm actually a lot better than I expected at this informal prose.
I have a much greater preference of being more verbose, however I have limited myself to this point within this work of an informal nature. Oh, but I cannot resist! It doesn't matter, it appears that I am going off on a tangent.
Why write a diary? Simply because I believe that it is the most interesting thing I could be possibly be done with my life. Is that sad? Personally, I believe not. Okay, I'm going to be straight to the point about this, it is an assignment for my creative writing class. Surprisingly enough I am the only male in my class that actually takes this subject seriously, most people see it as most take it as, without a better term, the 'easy' option.
Yes, I must have babbled on for too long. Who am I? Well, I guess I have to do this for formalities sake, or just in case I have a substitute teacher or something. Well, I am Andrew Brown, which is an ordinary enough name but on the contrary, I strive to be anything but that. I have been given the moniker of that 'weird dude', I've had much worse through my time though I suspect that you already know this, I mean you were the one to help me with the said issues. I'm not the one to sugarcoat such matters I but I do believe that you are the best teacher ever!
I sit here writing this at break time, I'm alone again. Well, that's what happens to those at the bottom of the pile. Those who get put down on a daily basis.Then quite suddenly I spot something, someone, this could be good or bad. Wait, give me as minute...
2nd September
I regret having to leave at such short notice, I was interrupted by my only friend. No one understands Meg, she's always been shy, so she hardly talks to anyone other than me. She puts herself under so much pressure, she has really severe anxiety so even the slightest and most miniscule thing can set her off on a panic attack. I truly feel her pain, for I am on the inside as she is on the outside. We are alike in so many ways it is scary.
She came up to me with a rare look of bliss upon her face, I could see even the faintest smile behind her obscuring, long brown hair. She simply stated all with her face, that she was for once at peace with herself.
"Hi Andy", she said gently while gazing down at me. I think that she had known for a long time; she knew it wouldn't work between us for obvious reasons but she knew that she could always support me and be the best friend ever. I respect her for being there for me, she makes me proud.
" Hi", I said looking up from this very book as the leaves fell from the tree. She stared at the book, I could see the inquisitively appear on her face.
"This, it's my creative writing coursework." I stated before she even had time to speak, she had pulled a face alike to a fish before she quickly stopped and nodded in agreement.
