Journal Entry #1
Have you ever been that girl. That outcast.. That denial... That girl that is just waiting for someone, anyone, to just come and understand you... I get it. I am different. Being that girl.. That outcast, denial, nerd, geek.. Honestly I like being smart, but it is not always fun. Why won't anyone won't just accept me for how I am? And trying to live up to my father's par all at the same time. Trying to get good grades, being taunted and teased for who I am? Why can't I just be normal? Why can't anyone seem to understand me? Why? It's like people are trying to avoid me... I can't help it if I can see things that others can't. And because of this people laugh at me. I could swear to you that last week a saw a lady with snake legs just walking down the street heading to Brooklyn! And my father says it's because I am a special person, but am I truthfully special? Seriously? I would hate to be rude to the person who will be reading this journal in the future, so I should probably introduce myself. My name is Arianna, Arianna Daria. See what I did there? You can say that I am a book worm, James Bond, Agatha Christie, the works. I am thirteen years old, and I am in the eighth grade. I live with my father, Jason Daria, who is a proffesor at the local college, in a small apartment on the Upper East Side. It's not much, but it's home. I have wavy dirty blond hair. But what I love most about myself are my eyes. I don't see people with my color.. Gray. That's right another things to distinguish me from everybody else. But I swear I can give some pretty good death glares with these eyes which do me good on days that I don't want to deal with people. And I am also an only child, figures right? But has anyone noticed that I have not used the term "mother." That's right. Another reason to get on my case. My mother left us when I was two months old. My dad says she had an adequate reason. Whenever I ask my father about her he always tells me, "Ari, you are such an understanding person, just like your mother," or "Ari, you have your mothers eyes," or "Ari, you are so beautiful, just like your mother." But what I want to know is why I am so different, why I can see the things that I can see. I confronted my father about this just the other day and his exact words were, "Ari, you are not crazy. You are perfectly normal, in fact better than normal, you are spectacular my Ari. Your mother would be so proud. Ari, baby, believe me. Someday it will all make sense." But then he said something really crazy, "Ari, I have a surprise for you. This summer (which is only a week away) I am taking you to the summer camp that your mother wanted you to attend. So start packing!" He had such a wonderful smile on his face, I just couldn't say no. But I was skeptical. Oh well. Anyways, one may ask why I just suddenly happened to start writing in this journal. Well, about two weeks ago I found this journal under my desk in my home room class. I gave it to my teacher, knowing that she could put it in her desk, and if anyone lost it, they could get it from her. Surprisingly, a week later I found the journal, once again, under my desk. Could this be some sort of fate? Don't think like that Ari, I would tell my self, magic isn't real. Is it? Well anyways, I kept the journal, holding on to a little sliver of fate. It's probably just regular journal, and seriously, why would I ever think of magic as real? It's not. Anyways, now I have this journal... This journal with two owls sitting on a branch reaching out to each other, as if they haven't seen each other in a very long time. Surrounding them is stars, consisting of people whom I believe have to do with mythology. Orion, Perseus, Hercules, Pegasus... Constalations that carry myths... Myths that had hope around every corner. Hope... Maybe this journal will have hope in store for me...
Signed,
Ariana Daria ( *Otherly known as the epic Ari Dari... No? Alrighty then ;)* )