Liz's is 18 and she decides to write a diary. You get to read as she starts a pretty exciting phase of her life. You might as well, since no member of the Bennet family is going to open anything that has been named so, cleverly by Liz. Questionable decisions/morales/situations galore. Quite a few of the usual tropes, but with Liz's own twists. Strong-ish language(Blessed by Sir swears-a-lot himself).
Hello everyone! Here's something I wrote in two hours or so. It may be horrible or you may find it worthwhile, whatever it is I'd love to hear it from you. Hopefully I'll get to continue this. Meanwhile, sit back and enjoy my haphazard setting up of the stage. This is Elizabeth Bennet's POV.
Hello Dear Diary,
This might be the most asinine thing I've ever tried, but after pouring over pages and pages of wholesome google suggestions to deal with my ennui despondency it seems to be the most innocuous one. Writing in a diary is an art, they often say (who "they" are, I have no idea but it just seems more worldly to phrase it this way, does it not?) and hey, I'm no Anne Frank. Or maybe I am, maybe this is on its way to becoming a much loved young adult read with a multimillion dollar movie franchise in works? Or maybe I should give up and write a steamy erotic fan fiction instead. Not that I know enough about that to even give it a shot à la E.L. James. Man, it would bring us that much required money though…
Dear God, this is going to be one giant fail.
And this suddenly seems like a dangerous idea. Should this diary fall into the hands of any of my infuriating family members I'd never hear/see/feel the end of it. Maybe I should stick to the superficial details, meh, we'll see. It's not like anyone in my crowded house gives a rat's ass to pick up, much less look through something called 'Expenditures- Jan to whatever'. Oh no, all of that must fall to my lot.
Wow, Liz, your resentment is showing, you might wanna stop before the angst fest begins.
Anyway, this isn't the first time I've tried one of those "turn your life around"-30 day yoga-90 day squat- 127 hours meditation- 49 gallons of water challenges, but my pathological need to procrastinate always seems to hold my 'nirvana' hostage. My pessimism about this whole 'journaling' business is therefore, not very misplaced.
What should I even write about? My life is average, nothing exciting ever happens… ooh, if this was a movie now would be a shot of a devastatingly handsome man stepping out of an expensive car straight into my life(right after a shot of me sitting in my bed, hunched over my diary, as I write this).
Okay, I think I have genuinely lost it. Maybe I should save up for therapy after all. Ugh, that brings me right back to the bane of all my problems… money. Although, I don't think anyone has enough money in this world. Not even those ten names Forbes keeps waving in our faces. We all can't have enough. And we the Bennets definitely cannot.
Though, I digress. Maybe I should write about what I have known all my life. It's always easier to begin with familiar pastures after all.
My family is like a giant bowl of potpourri. We all seem to have been collected from vastly different sources. The end result is not quite fragrant though. My dad, whose wit is sharp enough to bite your head off, is probably the head. I say probably because I think he has found a better family among his volumes and volumes of books. Although, I guess as a retired professor reading comes to him like breathing and in any case, he has always indulged me (much more than any of my sisters, definitely). My fondest memories of my childhood include him answering my embarrassingly inane questions. He had so much patience for my drivel, especially after mum left us. But I think I resent him slightly for not being there enough once he got married again. And while we are at it, for not really being able to provide for the household.
Man, this is getting too dark, writing this is making me confront some subconscious thoughts lurking within me.
Anyway, Jane is my older sister. And she's everything I've ever wanted to be, or atleast wanted to be. And oh, you'd wanna be her too. Tall and fit. Blonde and hot. She probably takes after my dad (who according to Mrs. Bennet was turning heads in his heyday. Um, ew.) I fortunately/unfortunately decided to look like my mum, who had dark brown hair and a medium build, (is that what it's called? Jeez, I'll have the strangest search history today, hopefully the government agent monitoring me wouldn't judge.) I still thank Sofia Vergara for stepping in to save my self esteem. Jane's a great confidante and supremely ambitious. She's only 21 and she's working her way to that Victoria's Secret Runway or something. I'm envious, I have to accept. Not of her career but her zeal and direction. I seem to be drifting and not living.
I also envy her ability to keep her priorities in the correct order. No one asks to maintain the household accounts or even help out the house with her earnings. But then again, Mrs. Bennet has always had a soft corner for Jane.
Mrs. Bennet. I suppose I should call her 'mum' but the closest I've managed is 'mother' (which makes me sound like a total psycho in public, hello Norman Bates). It's not like I haven't tried, but I think Jane and I will refer to her as 'Mrs. Bennet' privately, all our lives. Mrs. Felicia Forester neé Gardiner married dad when I was 2 and brought with herself, Mary and Catherine, her daughters. She also brought home a whole lot of attention.
Mrs. Bennet, to put it euphemistically (albeit cynically), would be the closest thing to a lovechild of Mrs. Robinson and Machiavelli (though would Mrs. Robinson fuck Machiavelli? Maybe when he was younger, so a lovechild of Mrs. Robinson and a young Machiavelli). Mrs. Bennet is apparently sexy and she apparently knows it. She's also the best strategist I've ever come across in my relatively sheltered life. It's a pity she uses her talents to take down competing cougars and ensnare hapless men. I am not insinuating anything though, I've long learnt how unsee the seen. Hahahah. Not that I would be caught dead admiring anything about her, even if begrudgingly. I think it's fairly obvious we don't see eye to eye.
Her daughters however, couldn't fall further from the tree. Mary is… for the lack of a better word, "woke". There's nothing that wouldn't offend her and those for whose apparent interests she "stands" for. Well, more like, tweets about. Or signs online petitions for. Or joins facebook groups or whatever else. I can't remember the last time made a joke without her launching into hysterics. She hates the government for it's inactivity but will mistrust any government activity. Honestly, I'm shocked as to how she hasn't yet gotten one of those tin foil hats yet. If she was an SNL skit, she'd be the 'girl you wish you hadn't started a conversation with at a party'. Fuck, maybe I'm being too harsh. Whatever, my diary, my rules.
Catherine, oh my sweet little Catherine. Mary's twin, but only in face. Kitty, as I like to call her, is a yes-man, or rather a yes-woman. Kitty has many personalities(not in the creepy 'Split' kinda way, or maybe, I don't know, no one knows, who even cares). She tends to replicate the company she's in. Honestly? Not a bad deal for me at all. It's good to speak to someone so eager to agree with you all the time. It's a pity that this very trait of hers becomes unbearable when she's with Lydia.
Ah, Lydia, at 16 she's somehow the tallest among us and reportedly the most charming (her own declaration, affirmed religiously by darling Mrs. Bennet). Lydia is definitely vivacious and she's also the only child dad and Mrs. Bennet had together. She inherited the best that they both had to offer, at least when it came to looks. I think that's why she's the apple of Mrs. Bennet's eyes. Unfortunately, this has made her brash and a little… slutty? (Is it even politically correct to use that word about an underaged kid? Meh, I don't know, is she even a kid? She knows much more than what I do! God, maybe I should try to be a bit more sex-positive? Oh well, I am work in progress, so I'll cut myself some slack. Fuck you very much.)
Wow, this might actually be therapeutic, who knew? I shouldn't have been so skeptical. I feel bad for the second page of one's google search results, you could hide a dead body there and no one would know. Except, I guess the truly desperate? This new method is a godsend, and you know what? I'm gonna stick with this, for once in my life I am going to see a 'self-project' through.
I just hope I have enough material to fill these blank sheets.