Jan 21st
Dear diary,
Hi, my name is Skye. I'm 20 years old and I'm studying business at college. Not that you really need to know this, you're just a book after all. I suppose if this diary, or whatever it is, is going to work in the way I want it to, I'll need to be upfront and honest about every detail. Sort of like a stream of consciousness thing. Reading this back I'm already kind of doing that, urgh...
Anyway, what would someone reading this back need to know to make sense of any of it? I suppose I could just add stuff as it becomes relevant, might as well cover the basics or whatever though. As I've already said I'm a 20 year old girl, I'm about average height I guess, brown hair and eyes. That'll do for now.
I'm starting this diary because some frankly pretty weird shit has been happening to me and I'm kind of hoping writing it down will help me figure it all out. I got this thing for Christmas from an aunt who is big into the whole 'know thyself to find inner peace' thing which apparently equates to writing every thought and feeling in a book that you hide from the rest of the world. Anyway, I'm off topic, although a Christmas present is what I'm going to be talking about so swings and roundabouts I guess.
The diary wasn't all she gave me actually. When I opened it for the first time, this fusty looking coin fell out. I assumed it was a coin anyway, it didn't look like any other I've seen, but that's irrelevant. I picked it up and she was like:
"Keep that safe. The mage I bought that from said it was very powerful and could grant a wish."
"Is this the same mage who sold you those healing crystals?" I replied.
(I think for the sake of clarity I'm just going to have to set out conversations like a story or something.)
"How is your back by the way? Still hurting?" I added.
"You don't have to believe it, just don't waste it," she told me with an almost smug look.
She does this kind of shit all the time. It bugs the hell out of my mom but at this point I kind of just deal with it. So yeah, now I'm stood holding some mangy coin and an old tatty book. I threw them in my bag for when I returned to college.
I didn't even think about this book or the coin until I got back here to tell the truth. The book I put on my desk but the coin I decided to carry around with me for some reason. I don't know why but when I held it I felt more assured and confident. Probably psychosomatic or something, I thought, possibly my aunt's words finally getting through to me. It did make me wonder for a moment, 'what would I wish for?'
Money?
Fame?
Honestly the money would be nice. The fame, meh, I could give or take. But it seemed so boring to just go for either of those options. I mean come on, you've got one wish and you waste it on something you can achieve anyway? Yeah the fame thing is unlikely, but it's not like there isn't enough money in the world is it? Sure, not having to do any work for it would be nice but... Anyway, back on track, again.
What was something ridiculous? What could never happen naturally that would also be fun? An idea sprang to mind.
This is where I need to put some context. I have a nice body. Not the hottest, not the prettiest, just nice. I'm not fat, I'm not thin. My boobs aren't huge but they aren't non-existent either. Frankly, any guy would be thrilled to have me, or any girl for that matter. In short, I'm happy with how I look. For some reason though just because I don't dress like I'm offering it on a silver platter or flash my cleavage to get what I want, I don't fit what some of the other girls call 'hot'. Is that enough of a reason for them to make me miserable? Apparently fucking so.
These fucking girls, if ever there was an advert for using your body to get what you want, they would be front and centre of every campaign. As you can imagine, most of them have bigger tits than me (not that I really give a shit), and the difference looks even bigger because they wear stuff to accentuate them. What frustrates me even more is that it's not like they're all dumb! Their grades are great, they study properly, they just have this warped world view where their worth is linked to their appearance. Seriously I thought I was done with this kind of shit when I left high school.
Reading this back, I guess I'm a little jealous. Not of their bodies, no way. I think I'm jealous of the fact that they have each other to fall back on because they've all accepted this way of life. Part of me thinks we'd even be friends if not for that. Anyway, this isn't supposed to be about me feeling bad about the girls who ruin my life in any way they can. Just for the record, no amount of potential or reasoning behind things justifies the way they belittle me. You know what, let me give an example.
There's this bathroom, right, and it's the only convenient one to use without walking all the way to the other side of the college. Whoever designed the place clearly didn't have a bladder. I swear to god that every time I need to use it, they're there, waiting for me like they live in the fucking place or like my needing to use it sets off an alarm for them or something. The last time this happened I'm in there minding my own god damned business and they practically barricade the door. It was like being blocked by a wall of boob.
"Oh, hey look, it's the human pancake!" said Anabelle. She's like their ringleader or something.
"Real fucking original, now let me out," I calmly replied, trying to hold my ground.
"Well, that's rude," piped up Selina with a grin.
"Piss off, Catwoman, no one asked you," I bit back. She'd never admit it, but her parents were clearly big comic book fans and had named her after their favourite character, although I suspect Catwoman is her parents' favourite for different reasons. In any case, I'd found out early on that it bugged her when we first met and I pointed it out.
"At least her parents came up with something more original that just looking up," Amanda cut in, to a chorus of laughter from the other girls.
Trying as best I could to hold in my anger, I simply glowered at them.