Clearing and tidying my room found me holding in my hands a fairly old diary of mine. Flicking through its content I caught sight of some aspiring proverbs and wise sentiments… or what was possibly intended as. Of course what I actually came across was just peculiar scrawling and dramatic jottings and here I present a small insight into my unusual outbursts…
‘But pouring out my feelings perhaps isn’t a wise idea when I’m supposed to be revising.’
‘Why did my heart sink as though it had been tied to a weight of steel?’
‘We soon found *person* and took a few shots, (via a camera of course, as much as I would occasionally prefer to inflict them with another kind of shot!’
‘It would surly be weeks before our laughing became tedious’.
I suppose what I enjoy most about looking back at old thoughts and feelings is what could be described as the ‘dramatic irony’ that has since been acquired by the narrative voice, otherwise known as me. I know what happens to the girl with the inflated sentimentalities, or at least to a wider extent I do. I know that really it didn’t matter whether or not her hair looked greasy or if she failed an assessment.