Girl Half Empty

//What an odd thing a diary is: the things you omit are more important than those you put in//
- Simone de Beauvoir
/June winner of the diary competition/


14. //Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies//

24th June


The older I get the more dead people I know.

This is equally true in reverse.

When I think about it I met my first ghost at the age of four, in my cancerous god-mother’s house. I’ve been aging ever since.


OK, so maybe I never met this woman but her son is the boy I sat next to in history and the boy who went to Download in ecstasy last weekend and now all I can think is how his family was a pen that just faded out without warning. It went so quietly that no-one realised the candle was burning down. It just stopped, like the way that rivers stop being rivers and become the sea… and God knows how it happened but suddenly they’re not what they were before. The tide shunts them out and away and distant.

The paper goes hungry without the ink.

I pour the sea down my kitchen sink.


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