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  • Publiceret: 6 maj 2015
  • Opdateret: 8 jun. 2015
  • Status: Igang
No one writes in diaries anymore.


1. Wednesday 6th May 2015 - First Entry

No one writes in diaries anymore. People call them diaries but all there are these days are planners and schedules and electronic versions. 

No one really writes anymore.

It's a bit of a shame. I quite like my handwriting, even though it's not as neat as my brother's - it doesn't have that same eloquence, or flawlessness...but still, I am the only person in the world who can possibly write using that handwriting. 

One day, there won't be a need for beautiful handwriting anymore, even though they get us to practice so much for it at school. One day, there won't be a need to write anymore.



I think most people try to start writing a diary at some point - I did too, when I was younger; several times in fact, but I guess I just got lazy and could no longer be bothered. Most people are like that.

I'm already 14 - not a bad age to start writing a diary, but let's see how long I'll last. Hopefully a while. I remember ripping the pages out of my old journal so I could use the book for studying but sometimes people have memories they don't want forgotten.

14 years old...if I end up not ripping pages out this time, I wonder what I'll think when I read this once more? In how many years time? Are these merely thoughts I don't wish to see disappear? I wonder why it is that each time I pen a word, my heart seems to deflate more and more and I become more depressed as though each letter is a fragment of my soul?

I wonder what diaries are for. Is it to write happy memories so you can convince yourself you're living a wonderful life? Or do you write about the sad things, and make the future you feel better when they read about their own past's suffering? If it's all just to raise my own self esteem...then it's all lies, isn't it? I think, after all, it's honesty that allows people to find comfort and come to terms with what's reality. My thoughts, my feelings, my memories - it should be fine as long as I can look back over these words one day and smile. Right? 


I believe my mood's been down lately because my violin exam is approaching. In two days, in fact. Even when I convince myself it's going to be alright, I had rehearsals with my piano accompanist today. Went there straight after school and...well, it was better than last time, I suppose, however...


I hate aural.

I am not a singer. Yet a section of Grade 8 violin exams requires examinees to listen to a short melody played on piano and then sing only the bass (lower note) of the played melody. 

So, the problem is, I don't even know what to sing. The melody will go in one ear and out the next and I'll have no clue on the difference between the bottom note and the top note. But even if I did know what to sing, I wouldn't know how to produce the pitch to sing each note. It would all be out of tune. 

There's no hope.

To me, the idea of testing a violinist on their singing is still completely ludicrous.

But, what am I to do?

At least all this denial keeps my self esteem from falling too low.


But then, what about school? I wonder if my dear future self would find interest in the school life of their self as a tenth grader. Now that I think about it, it's not particularly interesting.

Yet see, at lunchtime today...I was discussing love with one of my friends at the library. 

She had just been rejected by her crush and we were observing other boys studying at the desks to see if there were any that might help her move on from her broken heart.

Now, our search was quite interesting because, see, earlier this year we had each created a checklist of attributes our ideal boyfriend would have. Mine, for example, was as follows: higher height, higher education, higher income, not too tall - moderate height, asian (preferably japanese), likes anime, straight, not ugly, healthy, clean shaven, can't smoke, can't drink alcohol, can't take drugs, can't be too religious, plays an instrument, speaks a language other than English (preferably Japanese), good communication skills, cannot be too much older or younger than me, can't swear...the list goes on.

So I'd located a boy that more or less fit the criteria on my friend's list and pointed him out. She promptly stated there was no chance of her falling in love with him. Of course, I asked why.

"I didn't feel anything when I saw him," she had replied. "For example, when I met「insert crush's name」for the first time...well, it's hard to explain, but my heart just went *doki doki* (the onomatopoeic word used by the Japanese for the sound of a beating heart) and I knew I'd fallen in love."

It was strange, and when I listened to my friend's explanation, I somehow thought to myself that I had never fallen in love.

And it's true.

I've never fallen in love. My gaze has never fallen upon a boy (or girl, for that matter) and caused my heart to beat faster, or my cheeks to flush. 

Well, it's not like I mind.

The truth is...

I am afraid of love. 


Isn't love scary? Or am I just a coward?

I suppose asking an inanimate object won't give me an answer.


Maybe I asked because I don't want an answer.




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