Frontwards

I used to keep a diary, but God knows I don’t have the time for such frivolities nowadays. It would be nice to be able to keep it up, but it’s just not really feasible. However, as I was packing up all of my stuff the other day, I came across the diary I used to have. A beautiful book, all leather-bound with embroidered birds and slightly scuffed from all the use. My cousin bought it for me for my 23rd birthday. I was apprehensive at first, because doesn’t a diary just conjure up the image of a twelve year old girl sprawled face down on her Jungle Book duvet with her legs dangling in the air, chewing on a fluffy pink pen? Oh hang on, I guess it would be pretty tickly to chew on a fluffy pen. You know the kind of pen I mean, right? With the ball of pink fur stuff at the end of it? Or were they more like feathers? Who can say for sure? The point is that Kate bought me the diary and I wrote in it to be polite. After a while though, I began to enjoy writing in it. In fact, I began to look forward to writing in it because I simply had very little else to do with my sad little life.

The first few months were all just bullshit, I quickly realised, glancing through. Just stuff about how I was stressing out about my exams and how much I hated that stupid Vanessa Carlson on my course, but now I know that I needn’t have stressed because I did very well in those exams and according to Facebook, Vanessa Carlson is still working at Subway so I think I win that one.

Anyway, looking back on the events of 2005 and 2006, I realised that there is a pretty incredible story to be told here. And I know none of you are going to believe me, but I’m going to share everything with you anyway. No detail will be spared. Maybe I’ll add some little footnotes here and there, but otherwise it will be verbatim. The gospel truth, so help me God.