The Diary of Jane

Dear diary, 

Fading memories are like footprints in the sand. They could be good memories depicting great happenings in one's life... happy memories or bad, reminding you constantly of something you try so badly to forget. Once something big enough or important enough comes into your life, the memories fade as if they were meer prints in the sand which were washed away by a great refreshing wave. I longed for my wave to come and wash away the footprints which were staining me, making my life harder. Photography, for me, is a form of self-expression of how I see the world and the people inhabiting it. It is also a way for me to accompany the words I write and for me to remember things better. Some people utilize this field through its commercial means, others see this purely as an art form. For me, like painting or music, the possibilities are endless. After all these years and getting compliments from people who see my photos, I think I still lack the skill and have a long way to go. I try to be patient though and devour as many articles and photography books as I can. I browse other people’s works and get inspiration from them. Photography is an ongoing learning experience for me and it helped me though the toughest moments in my life so far. Whenever I'd have family problems, I'd blog on my laptop and post pictures, either of myself or not, depicting what I was feeling at that moment. I can remember my first camera which my dad had given me in all its vintage and cheap glory and all though it was absolutely not that special, it meant the world to me because I could see the world through completely different eyes. My dad was a French, who worked for the military. While on duty in America, he met my mum, so I'm sort of half-French. I also remember my dad teaching me the language, and what a beautiful language it is. I was always a tomboy, my hair always cut short, my converse never left my feet. (Figuratively of course) I was always so close with my dad. We'd go for long walks in the French countyside. The views were fantastic. I still remember living in France. I know it's time for a change.

--Jane

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I closed the diary and hugged it against my chest, as if the stories, the hate, the love-- the memories, would all flow to my heart and heal it. Only a single tear fell on its binding, though it felt as if I could've washed every last word on every single page away with a bath of salty relief. But no. Only a single, lonesome tear.I put my headphones back in my messenger bag and arranged my loose brown cardigan, and exited the plane. What better way to let go of your past than to move away from all your problems? I had finished high school back in Washington, where I had lived, so I was completely free to do whatever I wanted. I had looked up Mystic Falls on my laptop after one of my blogs. It looked like an enhanced Forks or La Push from a Twilight story and I craved some photos of its amazing scenery. I hadn't told my mum I was leaving, dad had left me enough money to buy myself a small apartment and be able to support myself, so that's exactly what I did. I felt independent. I always was and I hadn't changed from when I was younger except for my clothing since I grew out of baggy T-shirts and boy shorts. I waited for my luggage to arrive from on the luggage-belt and carried it to a cab. I gloomily bit into my apple, enjoying its sweet, crisp taste as I looked through the cab'c window taking in the rainforest's presence and appearance, overcast trees brimming with birds and greenery exploded like a painting. Opaque glints of branches and most soil...It was both eerie and captivating. Blazing along the street, I was slightly affronted by the driver's aggressive driving, which was completely foresaking the speed limit as he sped through the roads, testing fate, dangling his life in my opinion as if it were some vague gamble. Clinging tighter, I tried to ignore the sense of the ominous warning that was looming over me, the look of horror my dad would have if he saw me. My stomach churned as the vehicle came to an abrupt halt in front of my new apartment, next door to a woodsy building with chipped paint and a vast array of souvenirs plastered on the windows and hanging from the porch. 

"That would be $50 madame." The driver said, itching his head as he stuck his hands out for the cash. I was honestly too tired to debate so I just gave it to him. It was quite a long drive anyway. I got my key out of my pocket and stuck it into the keyhole as I twisted it. I had bought the house fully furnished so I wouldn't have any extra baggage. I placed my bags on the floor, put my keys on a coffee table and re-arranged the furniture to my liking. I uncovered the couch which was covered by a plastic sheet to avoid dust from falling all over it and plopped down, switching on the TV with the remote. 

Severe animal attacks are still swooping our city. Two people already found dead and one student from Mystic Falls High School managed to escape just in time and is still in hospital. Our officers are one the case to find the animal that is causing these attacks and to capture it. 

'Brilliant, I pick the town with severe mauling issues' I thought to myself as I got up and began placing my clothes in my closet and putting the food I had brought with me in the appropriate cupboard and arranged all of my photography books and pictures on a shelf in the main room. I opened my album, full of pictures I had taken both recent and older ones. I got out the ones of me and my dad and placed them in frames I had. I made myself a quick rice salad and ate it on my bed as I sat cross-legged while using my laptop.Since I had wasted a day at the apartment I decided I would visit some of the town's hang outs, seeing as being alone for too long slightly depressed me. I fixed my short hair, wore my boots, brushed my teeth, grabbed the house keys and my camera and walked out. After a few minutes I began to hear loud music playing faintly in the background. I followed it to discover a small restaurant/ bar almost bursting with people. I walked in and sat on a bar stool, playing with my camera.