Post by Christina Ann Robins on Apr 9, 2011 12:53:11 GMT -5
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"Ring the bells that still can ring, forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in."
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Dear Diary, 2/3/11
...This... this is the first I've written in my diary since the fire. Since my old diary was burned to ashes. Trent bought me a new journal, a lovely brown leather thing, with a secure golden-clasped buckle. Considering my last diary, or should I call it a binder? was simply a white binder with paper inside of it, I consider this a signifigant upgrade.
But all my stories... All my thoughts... gone. I would do almost anything to retrieve them. Worse than that, is I'm starting to forget what my entries said. Sure, I remember the general idea of some-- remember that day when Elizabeth fell off the roof of the middle-school, but her shirt got caught on the drain-gutters, and she hung there for nealy an hour? Or how about that idea for a murder-mystery story, or the one about the world of Caaton?
Sure, I remember them. But how long will I remember the tinyist bits and peices of converstaion that I recorded? Or something funny Hershey did? Or a tip from Trent about focus?
I don't know.
That part of my life might be gone forever now. And unless I meet a person who can reveal hidden memories-- I'm stuck. No, my 8th grade year is stuck. Burnt. Consumed. Swept up into a pile of ashes and thrown unceremoniously into a trash-can.
Enough of me moping. I'm going to get depressed if I keep thinking like this.
Finally convinced Trent to home-school me. It's been even worse, recently, at school, with the final-exams coming up. That, and the overwhelming concern people have been tossing at me was enough to make me topple over. I told people it was from some lung damage from the smoke, (which wasn't excattally a lie), but that meant I was off the swim and track team for a while.
It was so depressing. Alternating track and swim days were the high-light of my day. People got too exhausted to feel much of anything, and I was most at peace with the world. With that gone... it set me over the edge, and Trent knew it. He took me out of school last week, and has been teaching me himself ever since.
More than the school work itself, we mostly worked on growing my empathtic abilities. The sooner I can control them, the sooner I can head back to regualar school. I'm not sure I want to go back.
Even so, my days at this home-school can be just as bad as regular school. To grow my abilities, we'll often go to crowded places, like the mall, or an amusement park. Three weeks ago, we went to the wall. I passed out, there was so much emotion there.
All the blue, the swirling emotion, the depsair. I wonder how many people died there, in the Vietnam War. People left things for me, as simple as a painting of blue and read, to vivid memories that peirced my very sould. It was too much.
Okay... that was too depressing. I don't feel like writing anymore. See you tomorrow, diary.
-Robin
