Okay, fine. I lied. I don't have better things to do then write in a stupid book.

Now I know it's odd to start off with a story about the insane fool that I am, but I need to share this or I will literally explode. Like seriously. Not even implode, but EXPLODE! I swear! Fine, don't believe me.

Anyway, onward with the story.

My mother calls me down to dinner, right? And I go sit at the table just like a normal person would do. So then Mum proceeds to say, "I made soup." This seems like a perfectly normal thing to say. But no! I have to go and freak out about said soup. I was all, "Why do you have to make gross food?"

And that led to me screaming at her about how she doesn't love me because I was her last child and a mistake and God knows what, and I swear I am insane sometimes. And then, yes it gets better, my stupid prat of a brother, sometimes known as Ron, comes over and says,

"Have you two stopped your bloody fighting yet? I'm hungry. Blimey."

And then of course my evil twin, because of course I wouldn't go insane like this, just had to start yelling at Ron about how all he cares about is his stomach. For half an hour.

Well it all ended with me crying my eyes out on the couch and refusing to eat dinner. So here I sit with no eyes and an empty stomach.

What in Merlin's yellow checkered pants is wrong with me? Seriously.

I think it's that time of month again. For all you girls out there, you know what I'm talking about. You know? The time that makes You-Know-Who temporarily inhabit our bodies and control our actions? The time commonly known as PMS. Psychotic Murderer's Syndrome, of course.

I hate being a girl.

You know, actually I don't. It probably beats being a bloke.

Oh, dear! I think I just heard a crashing noise coming from the twins' room. Oh well, they probably just exploded something again.

You know what? I think I'll take a nap. Maybe when I wake up, I will be sane again. Probably not, but it's worth a shot.

Huh. All that nap accomplished was the spilling of ink all over my sheets, and words imprinted on my forehead. Because I just had to fall asleep on the diary.

Well anyways, it's a few hours after my angry outburst at my family. I'm in my amazingly comfortable haven of pillows, also known as my bed, eating my weight in Honeydukes Chocolate, drinking tea so sweet it shall put me into a sugar coma, and watching Ron and Harry try to throw the gnomes out of the yard. Life is beautiful.

Jessi's right. This diary thing is working out pretty well. I feel much better now.

Author's Note: I'm rather enjoying myself writing this story. I have no idea if it is good or not but it's fun to write. Review and I will smile. Even if it is bad things you are saying. Then I won't smile. But I will appreciate your honesty. Now, chop, chop get to it!