Diary Excerpt #48

Sometimes I have too many thoughts,
and I want to tell you them all.
But then I worry, oh how I worry,
that you'll find me silly, naive,
a foolish girl with braids in her hair
and bruises on her knees.
I write them and write them,
but sometimes, I wish you would read them.
Tell me what you think of them, who you imagine me to be.
I'm concerned that I live too much in my head,
and that the real world will never console me
from losing all I've created.
Uncle Jim said all I needed to be a writer
"was a good leather binding and a respectable title"
but even with those, I find I struggle to live up to even my own expectations.
Why couldn't I mount a horse and ride into battle with Arthur?
Or outshoot Robin Hood, far outmatching his Marion?
Why couldn't I simply follow Zorro on his quest for freedom and peace?
Why did my Mother ever teach me to read so young?
I've spent my entire life in disappointment.
Because life is never as good as my books.


  1. "I've spent my entire life in disappointment. Because life is never as good as my books."

    This is my absolute favorite part. I feel this exact same way. Life really isn't as good as books, it never will be. It's a terrible thing. But I can't seem to tear myself away from reading. Those worlds are too precious to me.


  2. Oh this is just gorgeous.

    Who's to say life can't be that good, and love can't be that true? Granted, you need to accept there will be a lack of dragons and monsters!

    Your bio says you dream of Ireland in the Spring, England in the Fall and Paris in the Winter. I can vouch for all three of these; they are amazing and there is absolutely nothing stopping you living your own fairytale and following these dreams.

    Just make sure you carry on writing wherever you go ;) x

  3. That's because your books are so wonderful :)