It started with me

What are you doing here? This isn't reality.

[molten-crayon]

20th Feb.

Dear Diary.

I am feeling pretty alright considering how today played out. We got a call from grandma, so basically the worst that could happen. I couldn't hear what she was screaming about this time, but I did hear her throw around her "reeliks" as mom used to say. It's mostly a codename for cuss words and remarks she makes towards people, most of which are directed at my dad.

Funnily enough, she's been the nicest to me for these last couple of years, even if dad needs that kind of kindness more. She wasn't even that kind to mom. I guess in her mind, it's not my fault for being born. Although she does sometimes say that I need to look "less like your father" which I plan on not following.

Worst part is that she's confusing. I can't call her bad, since she does help with our house sometimes. She also used to babysit me, memories of which I consider the happiest I have even to this day. Grandma and me always went to the local park, where she was willing to sit for hours as I played on the playground. I do still care about her, I just wish she wasn't making it so difficult.

[molten-crayon]

15th Feb.

Dear Diary,

Yesterday was Valentine's day. I honestly forgot until my dad reminded me. He went out and got flowers for mom. Pansies, as they're her favourite. He places them on the kitchen table for a few days before burning them in a small fire out back. It's nice, since I get to warm up marshmallows before going to bed. Funnily enough, he only saved one bunch of pansies. They've been dried out between the pages of "The Three Musketeers", which I don't think mom will apprechiate. Must have been the world's most beautiful pansies. I only discovered them about half a year ago, but I always forget to ask dad about them.

They used to go on so many dates back then and leave me with either one of mom's friends or a random relative. Sometimes I wonder how it feels like to go on a date. Must be nice, since they had about two a month.

Dad also got us some cake to celebrate, so I'd count today as a good day.

[molten-crayon]

11th Feb.

Dear Diary,

I didn't exactly have a good day. Not a bad one either, since I'm home now and it's a bit better. Dad will be back super late today, so I had to make my own food again. Thankfully we have about 3 more packs of spaghetti and a lot more ketchup. It's my favourite food, though having it about twice or thrice a week for three months straight is starting to wear me down.

The trees outside used to be covered in snow, but it's all muddy and wet now. Having snow back wouldn't exactly make the days any warmer, but it would at least look pretty.

Hopefully dad will be able to come home early tomorrow. I want him to say good night to me again.

[molten-crayon]

8th Feb.

Dear Diary,

Can't write much, busy day. I have about 5 more minutes before it's lights out. Dad and I are going "foraging" tomorrow. He likes to do it when the sun comes up and there's not much time left, so i need to sleep for as long as possible. No idea why he decided that we need to get all the groceries and supplies for the week every saturday morning right after sunrise. At least going to sleep is funny. He marches in like a sergeant and lists loudly all the requirements for a good night's sleep.

"Room: cold

Child: under blanket

Goodnight kiss: given!"

And then he turns off the lights, after which he drops the military impression. It leaves just me, darkness and my glowing diary in my room.

[molten-crayon]

4th Feb.

Dear Diary,

New snow came down today. It made the world fluffy and quiet, which is nice and all, but it's way too cold. It must be at least 10 below freezing. Dad and I made thin waffles. They usually go well with ice cream, but we're never fast enough to roll them up into cones, so we kinda just dip them into some half melted ice cream instead. I'd count this as a good day, since school was cut short for some reason. Might have been the worryingly large amount of snowfall, that the teachers were warily glancing at.

The crows haven't returned though. Wouldn't surprise me if they're currently huddled around a smoking chimney somewhere more towards the city. We used to have one, but my parents tore it down after it nearly burned down the place. Means I've never seen it with my own eyes, but dad did say that a part of the attic is still burnt from it. I would go and see it since, unlike the basement, I am allowed up there, but mom's old projects have built a wall between me and that burnt piece of the house. Climbing over them could mean accidentally breaking them, which is definetly not worth it.

Once we're ready to deal with all that, then I can go and have a look.

[molten-crayon]

30th Jan.

Dear Diary,

I keep forgetting I have a diary now, since I've never written one before. I looked up some tips and tricks and chose to start it with Dear Diary. People also often talk about their crushes or huge secrets that could destroy their life, but they need to get it off their heart. Unfortunately I don't have any of those. There's only been one thing on my mind lately and that's mom. Also the missing crows. I think they found a better place to feast, but I kinda miss holding a staring contest with them.

Although I guess I have a tiny secret, though it's not life destroying. I developed a fear of the dark. It was fine when I was little, but it turned terrifying real quick with just the two of us in a big house. It's the reason why dad gave me the old diary. The face on it glows. I have no idea what paint she used on this, but I swear that sometimes it glows during the daytime as well, unlike the stars glued to my ceiling. It better not be radioactive or something like that, since I actually really like the dim blue light it gives off at night.

[molten-crayon]

27th Jan.

School was fine. Nothing too special. I was hoping to see the neighbourhood crows again, but they weren't here today. It's boring here.

[molten-crayon]

25th Jan.

I don't know how to start this. Mom told me that diaries are to write whatever, your feelings, moods and other stuff. So I'll just write that this feels weird. I've never written in a diary before. Scratching the pages with a pencil feels kinda nice though. I also love the picture she drew on it. It's of a beautiful creature she saw in a dream. Called it a lagatoid. Woke up in the middle of the night and dad caught her painting on a random sketchbook cover. It must've been so long ago, since the pages have yellowed a bit over time. At one point they installed a lock on it, which I think happened after me. Her crafts were amazing.

I really miss her.