4th October 2006
A personal diary? What the fuck am I suppose to write in this? Feelings and shit? My Name is Elizabeth Stonem. Call me Effy or a kitten will die.
My brother Tony gave me this journal. Ever since blood started to rush out of my body, I stopped talking to people. For the past two years, Tony didn't mind much about the fact that I'm not bothered with speech. It was the grand opportunity for him to take me under his wing and teach me the three life essential lessons.
Lesson number one: People are puppets. You pull the right stings and they move in the right way – the way you want them to. Tony is the master puppeteer. I'll be better.
Lesson number two: Attitude. It's all about the attitude. If you don't want to be a fucking pussy, don't be one. Take that fucking leap and feel the adrenaline rush. Don't think, just do.
Lesson number three: Some people are worth getting to know. Such people must be good-looking and carry drugs.
Tony has just started college. He's not going to be around much, is he? Got more pussy for him to fuck around now. Hence, this piece of shit he gave me. He said I might get him worried, if I suppress things too much. I'm going to miss him, not having him around as often, but I don't allow myself to show my emotions in public (refer to lesson number two.) While he's in college, marking his territory, I will be swerving around the streets of Bristol, putting in practice what Tony has been teaching me all along. It's my time to "fly and fucking shine" – as he puts it, and I'm not planning to disappoint.