E: 17/8/04

"How can you wake up and find your world so changed?" That's her msn
name right now. It makes me wonder (after my previous entry) whether I
would rather die suddenly, as he did, or know in advance that I was
going to die. I'd rather drown (as the former) than have a... brain
tumor (the latter, like her father. We haven't seen their family in
weeks. He's had several sessions of radiotherapy by now) And I'd rather
have a tumour anywhere else but my brain. I could probably stand any
illness but one that affected my sanity. I don't want to forget, the
good things or the bad.
Don't mistake me, mum, in thinking that I have no sympathy. I feel so
detached from death (although I write about it so much. it's not true
to say that I have it on my mind all the time: only when I settle down
to write this) It is as Gildernstern says: death isn't dramatic; death
is quiet; death is when someone leaves the stage.
The sad thing about death is not the pain (if there is any): the most
sad thing about death is that the people left behind will never speak
to them again, will never see them (not even a glimpse). It's like
they've left home and have forgotten to write. The other sad thing is
that the person has not only been taken away from others, but that they
themselves can no longer enjoy a life.
I'm not sure what I believe about life after death: it's better not to
think about it, I get emotional otherwise.

It's been an odd sun today, a grey-yellow sun. Not that it usually
tempts me outside, although it ought to: good weather ought to be an
incentive for me to spend my time outdoors. But it isn't. I hope it
will call to my children (if I ever have any). A personal note (me,
myself, I): I'm too maternal for my own good. I'm only 16, let the time
pass and enjoy it. I'm trying.

Yesterday I bought myself a new pen with black cartridges. I think that
writing in black is a new step for me: pulling away from my customary
schoolwork-blue. It's a stage, a movement onwards. I'm looking forward
to my new school, only because I can't stand my old one. Thank goodness
I got away.

This is too jumbled. I wrote a 7-page entry in my written diary this
morning, proper updates. I should be consistent. I should, I must, I
ought to... too many rules that I break.

I think (on a random note) I would enjoy swimming if I felt confident
in a swimming costume (bathing suit. whatever) That's an obvious
thought that I have't had before. Don't think of these things.

Enough now. Here, now, before my dive.