Vol. 021
22. 06. 05.2
Bright flicks of light caress the pale walls of my room as cars rumble by; shrieks and laughs tumbling out as I record this new beginning again (how many predecessors started and forgotten, Diary?)3
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I find myself falling into a state of late for which there is no respectable definition nor reason. It's a clinging sadness which shadows me until the most inopportune moments at which it then swallows me. Suffocating with something strangely akin to fear, as if the world were merely falling away and I nothing special. How I do want to be special Diary. Giddy with the knowledge that I am special in the eyes of another, distinguished above the rest if for only a bare fraction of a second. But he never looks at me and I do know that he certainly doesn't think of me. 5
Vol. 016
25. 06. 047
Went to a garden party with Madeleine today. She, as usual, insisted I go but then quickly flitted away from me as friends appeared all over the garden, people I've never known and never shall, as foreign to me as the alcohol served. 8
Just as I despaired of another afternoon spent desolate in the corner staring at the roses {dark red like the inside of one's throat), he came up. A quick, slightly nervous smile was offered before he proceeded with the general inquiries and introductions. 9
Conversation then proceeded down a path not incomparable with that traveled by Alice in Wonderland, with information shared on colorful and slightly unconventional topics. He disapproves of being addicted to drugs but doesn't find fault with the actual act of getting high. He attends Parizio's Preparatory School for Boys, a senior. He lost his virginity at age 13 to a whore in the backroom of a bar as his father drank away the last of the weekly paycheck in the front. He is smart.10
He is disarming. And that, that worries me for he wouldn't like me if he knew the truth. 11
Author notes
This is supposed to start at the very end and then go back and tell the story. That's why the very first entry is a year ahead of the next entry. And it's written diary style but none of it is real, based in real, or remotely meant to resemble real.
The style in which this is written is also meant to be kind of formal because although I have yet to establish an actual setting, the place is a somewhat more elegant and rule-restricted area and maybe time. Most likely European. However, if that's bad, I'm open to criticisms.
any comments will be appreciated.
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Comments
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I really like it, and I especially like the form.
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