Dear Diary

Monday, Jan. 16th, 2010

Dear Diary, It’s me, Hannah. Kidding. I know you’re familiar with me, I just like that joke. Today was not the best of days. When I went downstairs and saw dad was back, I thought maybe it would be the best of days. I was wrong. I thought high school was going to make things better, but I was wrong about that too. I haven’t made any new friends, and it’s not like new kids are flooding to this town. It’s too small, too close knit, too… I don’t know how else to continue about it. I’m counting down the days until I can leave. I’ll move to a big town or city, and I’ll make lots of friends, but I’ll still write every day.

Today in English, Mr. Howard pulled me aside and said he’s sorry for what happened with my mom, and he hopes everything is better now. I guess when your mom has a psychotic break in the middle of town, news spreads. I try not to think about it too much, even when people stare at me. I tell him she’s better now, and my dad visits to check on me. Anyway, he told me about this secret writing technique he used to use when he was my age. When he was having a bad day, he would write in his journal (it’s funny to imagine Mr. Howard with a diary) and he would make up a whole new day. He made it whatever he wanted. He said it helped. So, I think I might try it. I like the idea. Maybe next time I write, I won’t be some stuck 14-year-old, I’ll be somebody else.

I should probably go; I can hear mom moving around downstairs. She’s probably about to head to bed and she doesn’t like when I keep the lamp on past nine. She says something about energy bills. I’m going to try to get a flashlight from the store before school so I can write under the covers in bed. Goodnight, thanks for always being here.

-Hannah

 

 

Friday, Jan. 20, 2010

Dear Diary,

Today when I was in the cafeteria, there were kids whispering about me in the cafeteria. They would laugh and whisper and point. It doesn’t bother me though, because they don’t know that I’m a spy. Sarah Bellagio, the ringleader of the popular kids, is my primary target. I’ve been tasked with taking her down, but I don’t know if I can do it. There’s an earpiece giving me instructions, and it’s my job to listen and follow directions. If they knew about my skills, they might be more careful about their gossip.

When lunch is over, the voice in my ear tells me it’s time, and I lock eyes with Sarah across the room. She winks at me, as if she’s heard my earpiece too. I don’t take my eyes off her as I toss my lunch in the trash and follow her out into the hallway. But when I get into the hallway, she’s gone. My training kicks in, and I’m on high alert, listening for movement. The corner of my eye catches the bathroom door down the hall slightly swinging.

I slip past the lockers, there’s only ten minutes until the next class starts, and who knows what Sarah is planning. I know she has classified information about the company that’s hired me, and they want it back. I manage to make it into the bathroom without so much as a squeak giving me away. I plant myself in the stall next to her, and the voice in my ear tells me to move before she leaks the files. I launch myself under the gap between stalls, snatching her backpack and the phone right from her hands before she even knows what hit her. She tries to exit her stall, but I’ve jammed it with a pencil. I’ve won. I tell the earpiece I have the information, and they can send in the squad to come get her. She won’t be able to gossip again for a long time.

Diary, I can see why Mr. Howard recommended this. It makes me feel like I’m in control. Of course, this was my first try and it was kind of hard, but I think this might be the most fun away to deal with the worst days. Till next time,

-Hannah, Undercover spy

 

Sunday, Jan. 28th, 2010

Dear Diary, today my mom had one of her bad days. She screamed at me, but I knew it wasn’t really my mom. Her eyes were angry, and I realized if I looked closely her eyes were more purple than anything. I raced back to my room and dawned on my armor. If I reached under my bed, I found my sword where I’d left it so many years ago. As she got louder and louder scales sprouted across her skin, and she started to grow and grow until she was breaking through the ceiling. Her words become fire, and she sets the backyard ablaze with her fury. A dragon.

My mom had been replaced with a beast in disguise, and to get her back I have to try and chase the dragon away. If I slayed it, I may never get my mom back. The dragon towered over me, spitting fire in every direction. I knew I had to be quick if I wanted to win.

I called out for my trusty companion, and it came bursting from the basement, a winged horse in armor similar to mine. He swept me up onto his back and I gripped his mane as we rose up into the sky. The wind whistled past me as I came face to face with the beast. I screamed for it to return to the depths from which it came, or I would be forced to slay it. The heat from its nostrils warmed the air as it exhaled. I urged my horse forward and placed my hand on its face, the scales rough under my palm. Maybe, instead of trying to expel it with fear, I could win it over with compassion.

To my surprise it closed its eyes and bowed it’s head, surrendering to my touch. I may be a mighty warrior, but I know the pain of feeling like nobody could possibly understand you underneath the exterior they see. The dragon didn’t fly away as I thought, instead it disintegrated, and my mom stood in its ashes. She hugged me and thanked me for seeing past her exterior.

 

Diary, my mom didn’t thank me, and I didn’t get her back today, but I hope somewhere deep down she knows that I see her deeper than the surface. I’ll keep fighting like I do.

-Hannah, Warrior With Compassion

 

Friday, Feb.  18th, 2010

Dear Diary, it’s been a while. Dad told us that he’s moving to a different state with his fiancé. Mom didn’t take it very well, and neither did I. Thankfully, it’s actually 2022, and I’m living on my own in New York. I just dug this journal out of a box and was feeling nostalgic. My mom ended up accepting the help she needed, and she got so much better that when my dad saw it, he decided to stay. It was a miracle to see her doing so well, and I started to do better in school since she didn’t need me so much. I graduated high school at the top of my class, and all my friends and I had a big party to celebrate each of us going to college.

I met a really handsome guy at college, and we fell in love. It was a love like you see in the movies. He wakes up early to make me coffee every morning, and just the other day I found a ring in his dresser when I was putting away some clothes. I can’t wait until he pops the question and am already planning the wedding. He doesn’t know that yet, but I think he’ll be happy some of the planning is already underway. Right now, we live in a beautiful loft apartment that overlooks the city.

At night I can see the twinkle of lights all across the horizon. Mom is coming to visit in a few days, and I can’t wait to show her how big the city is. I’ll even give her a tour of the building I work at. I write articles for a teen magazine; thanks to the writing I did in my younger years. I’m so happy it hurts, I’m always making new friends, and I never have to pretend anymore. My life is exactly how I always imagined it, and my heart is full.

 

Diary, I wish I could end by saying this is true. I wish I could write that it’s my last entry. I hope one day I look back and this is true.

-Hannah