Reality Ruined My Fantasties

By QueenRachlee

1.3K 49 33

Why live life like everyone else when you can be original? This is me, Rachel, a sixteen year old girl, a sop... More

Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six
Day Seven
Day Eight
Day Nine
Day Ten
Day Eleven
Day Twelve
Day Fourteen
Day Fifteen
Day Sixteen
Day Seventeen
Day Eighteen
Day Nineteen
Day Twenty
Day Twenty One
Day Twenty-Two
Day Twenty Three
Day Twenty Four
Day Twenty-Five
Day Twenty Six
Day Twenty Seven
Day Twenty Eight
Day Twenty Nine
Day Thirty
Day Thirty One
Day Thirty Two

Day Thirteen

41 2 2
By QueenRachlee

Dear Reader,

        When I talk to someone about the books I'm writing, I mention this one a lot. Normally, they look at me funny and say:

                "You put your personal diary on the internet for everyone to see?"

        And I just smile and nod. Here's the thing I want to clear up. Obviously you've read this much of my life so you know that this is not a typical diary. And I'm not a typical girl. I don't drool over boys or write about my crush and his "dreamy eyes" or whatever. But isn't that what most people think of when someone mentions their diary? When I was around like ten, my cousin gave me a diary for Christmas. It was sparkly and pink (ick even little me hated pink) with a lock and set of keys tied to the cover. I was so excited because, even from a young age, I adored writing. So I wrote down everything that happened for the past week. Then it went from a newsletter of my life, to a dream journal, and finally to a shrine to whichever boy I liked the most at that time. Eventually I lost the keys and didn't write in it for a while. After about three years, I cut the lock off and read everything I wrote.

                                                                            WARNING MINI RANT

        When I saw what I had written, I realized that I had been dependent on what a certain guy thought of me. That's something I never wanted to be. I hate when people feel like they need some other person to complete them, that this one person's opinion mattered the most. Now, yes I realize that one day most of us will find that person we can't live without and marry them. And yes, I realize that they will mean the world to us, but that's not now. Unless you're engaged or married, your significant other doesn't need you dyeing your hair blue because they like the color. My friend struggles with this a lot. I heard her say one time:

                "I measure how beautiful I am by how many times a boy asks me out."

        I love my friend to death but this is all wrong. You are you're own person, strong, beautiful (or handsome), and brave. Who cares what Bob thinks? You are just simply you, and anyone who says different can take a long walk off a shot pier.

        So what I was trying to get at earlier is, why am I writing this? Why would I put my diary, my personal life on the internet? The answer: I don't know. I know reasons that I am not writing for. I'm not writing for pity, sympathy, greed, fame, or anything like that. I'm not writing to be noticed. I'm writing because I feel the need to speak up. I'm actually a quiet person most of the time, and I hate myself for it. So this is my way to be heard and be honest. Writing just makes me feel better; I can channel all my emotions into my stories. But I don't want to write just for me. I want to write for those who won't, or can't. I want to write for those wallflowers who let the world go by. I want to write for those who have been hurt emotionally or physically and need help. I want to write for those who are shunned and ignored.

        I want to write for everyone who's just like me. We deserve to be heard and for once I'm not backing down. 
                Will you be heard?

Sincerely,
Rae

"Can you see me? Cause I'm right here. Can you listen? Cause I'm trying to make you notice what it would mean to me to feel like somebody."-Lemonade Mouth

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