The Director

A diary that meant everything is missing. Who will find the diary and what happens?
It's the English translation of the Danish story: Instruktøren. Hope you'll enjoy! :)


3. Chapter 1

Dear Diary                                                                                                                                           Fri. 12/26-14

You are the best Christmas gift a girl can wish for. I told it to mum the second I got you. I’m not quite sure what to write in you while I’m actually happy in the moment. It’s Christmas holidays and my possibilities to get a close friend is indescribable big. Everything I have to do is to open you and write in you. It’s not that difficult.

                      Well, it’s that I’ve never had a diary before so I’m not really sure. Would it make sense to describe myself to you? It is a possibility, while you don’t really have eyes. I now, I’m talking to you like you’re a real human being but it’s just the way I see you. Hopefully you’re okay with it?

                      Anyways, my hair is long and dark brown. It’s not straight and it’s not curly. It is somewhere in between and it never sits just right. So every morning I’m getting up early to either curl or straighten my hair. Even if I style my hair I have to do something to it first.

                      I have brown eyes, dark brown eyes. A lot of people say that it’s almost impossible to see my pupil because my irises are so dark. Personally I don’t mind, it just means that everybody else is having a much harder time in order to try to read the reactions in my eyes. It might sound a bit funny to put it like that but it is how I find it the easiest. I’m a very private person, dear Diary. I guess you’ll figure that out. Something tells me that you are the exception to that rule. But who knows?

                      I’m not tall. A little over a meter and sixty so it’s not a lot. I was born and grew up just outside of London. And as it is right now then I’m seventeen. My birthday is in February, the 3rd to be more precisely. My life is not that exciting. I have a boyfriend I don’t love and a lot of friends that don’t know me.

                      I know, quite self-effacing, but it’s the truth.

                      My boyfriend’s name is James. He was really nice when I just met him, but then we became lovers and now he’s an asshole. What have I done? I know it’s my fault. My so-called friends say something else but they don’t know anything. Which is because I haven’t told them anything.

                      James is taller than me and has blue eyes. When I first met him he was my everything. Now? I’m not so sure any longer. If I think back then I really liked him. He was nice and he was there for me. Well, he’s not there for me now. Now he’s only there for his friends. No, he’s there for me if I’m with my friends and he’s with his friends. When we’re alone he’s never there. Consequently, where never together alone.

                      My girlfriends are a group of girls who see me as the popular. I don’t feel popular. I feel like I’m someone else than who I really am. If you can feel like that at all.

                      I have a sister who’s a bitch. It’s the only word I have left for her. Or, she’s a bitch all the time except in vacations. When it’s just the two of us and mum then everything is good and she’s quite alright.

                      My dad? I don’t talk with him. My parents got a divorce when I was six. It still hurts but since it’s dad who won’t see anything to me then he can go to blazes for all I care. My mum works as a chief surgeon on a big hospital in London so she isn’t home a lot.

                      If I’m not with James (who am I trying to fool, where never together!) or my so-called friends them I’m alone. Alone is something I’d rather only be in the morning and in the evening. I like spending time with people. Even though they don’t always know who I’m really am. Most people now me ‘well’ but no one really knows the ‘real me’. If it makes any sense to you. It probably doesn’t. I’m rambling now, see you!

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