Diary of My Very Confused Self

This is my diary which is mainly written for me, but also for the 'Dear Diary...' competition. I can't predict exactly what you'll see here, but there will probably be lots of self-doubt, self-loathing and poor self-esteem. Hopefully intermittent with some fun, too.


1. 05/11/2015

Preface: Before I start revealing all my dirty little secrets, I would like to tell you that I haven't quite made peace with the title of this diary. I'm working on a better one, however, until the One comes to my mind, please bear with me.


Garfield was so right about Mondays. Nothing good can come of them ever. So when mine had gone relatively well until almost 12 o'clock (even one of my classes got cancelled which felt just about like heaven), I knew disaster was bound to arrive. Why, guess who's very shy and proved to be correct. Yeah, this girl.

To understand what I'm about to tell you, you need to know three things: 1) I'm very, very shy. I never dare speak in class, or to strangers even if they're a staff member of sorts and it's their job. But if, by some unearthly miracle, something actually comes out of my mouth, it never goes past a rather quiet whisper. 2) Today, an author was invited to come and hold a lecture based off on questions we asked him. You can imagine, I prayed all along for him to not pick me. 3) Today of all days, I finally managed to drink 1,5 litres in the short span of 3 hours. Since I have to pee often by default, I was astonished that even after a litre my bladder still felt okay. That is, until something like half in the authors lecture. Then it came like a tsunami. I'd never had to go so badly, and basically this is how I ended up putting my hand in the air after almost a year without ever doing so in any of my classes let alone literature. Naturally, my teacher was in a heated discussion with our guest, but since at that point I nearly wet myself, I persistently kept my hand up. My teacher acknowledged my signal, but he assumed I wanted to ask something from the author because he only nodded at me and told me 'pardon'. Fortunately, the bell rang moments later, however, before I could have stalked out, the author told me we were going to start with my question after the break. Only, I did not want to ask anything in front of the whole class (or at all) and I tried to make him understand that through some illegible blabbering then practically running out the door. 

Frankly, I hoped with all my heart he had forgotten all about it, but why would I have that kind of luck though? Would have been too easy. Again, I was blabbering completely lacking any kind of structure or meaning, fervently shaking my head. At that point, my teacher jumped in and said he would like to ask and I was left in shame and tears. It seems so silly, like I'm making such a big deal out of nothing, but that doesn't change the fact that now I undoubtedly believe that my teacher thinks I'm an impatient, boorish prat, and that my classmates consider me a degenerated freak. I do not want to go to school tomorrow.

On balance, I'm extremely happy that I've started up my book blog again. I hadn't realized how much I missed doing it until I returned to it. Even though I had my reasons for stopping back in last November, I feel like I'm much more competent to run a blog now and will be able to produce more original content. Also, I have a thrilling book to read and an exciting read-a-thon to bring the most out of. I really have no reason to complain, it's just that even smaller things can throw me miles off, especially when I'm around people. And I have a tendency to make excuses more than Jennifer L. Armentrout makes books...

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