January 5th
Bloody lousy Christmas present this is. A journal. Can't you just see me jumping for joy? No? Must be a figment of my imagination. Ah well, my mother thinks that every young girl needs "an outlet for her teenage frustrations" and so she very kindly provided one in the guise of a Christmas present.
I guess I should start off by telling you about me. Well, first off, quidditch is my life. I eat, sleep and breath quidditch, and if I slack off for one moment, Angelina's all over me. It isn't as if I don't love it, the thrill of being up in the air on my broom, the wind blowing in my hair and robes, but sometimes I wish that I had a life beyond the sport. I mean, when people see me in the halls, they'll say "Oh, there goes Katie Bell, she's the Gryffindor chaser!" And that's great, I mean, I like being recognised, but couldn't it be for something else? Like "Oh, there goes Katie Bell, the one who aced all her O.W.L.S.!" Or "she's dating Fred Weasly!" Wait, I did not just write that...darn. Yes I did.
Okay, so I've fancied Fred Weasly for a few years, what's it to you? I mean, I stopped liking Oliver a long time ago, and he DID leave Hogwarts, so it's understandable that I'd like someone else. Anyway, it's not as if Fred ever thinks about me outside of the quidditch pitch. I'm just one of his mates, not a girl, just a mate. Wait...that didn't sound right, did it? Well I wouldn't mind being his mate exactly...wait...that didn't sound right either. I'm hopeless. I'm going to bed.
Fiddlesticks. Can't get to sleep, Angelina's snoring again. I love the girl to death, but she should really provide us all with earplugs or something. Ah well, at least I've got something to do other than like awake trying to ignore her snores. Maybe this wasn't such a barmy present after all.
Oh, I never finished that thing about me. Whoops. Oh well, it can wait for tomorrow. Angelina's stopped snoring so I might as well take advantage of the silence. G'night.