My Dear Diary

At the beginning of 2020 I started a diary. Every night I write an entry. It’s only a few paragraphs and I never bother to read it back. My pissed entries are incomprehensible anyway, and the rest are just stuff like this:

“We still have lockdown, I love it. I hate my best friend. This new guy is a total PRICK. I so shouldn’t talk to him, I shall text another. I cried today on the train (again) hope lockdown carries on. No I don’t. Well I do, I just like the quiet. But I don’t know what I like? XO”

It’s very basic, also very similar to this blog. The person/s I express dislike for changes daily. If anyone will have any interest in reading it upon my demise/or finding it in my bedroom someday, they will not happen upon the musings of a 21st Century Charlotte Brontë figure, but rather the discombobulated reflections of a nincompoop.

One of my friends once said my tweets read like a “Taylor Swift album”. I thought this was cool, I don’t tweet these days because of a suspicion that the skinny bitch was reading all my tweets and turning them into millions of dollars. I’ll be dammed if I’m going to stand by and feed someone else’s bank balance who’s also skinner than me. I lose my shit at copyists actually. LostItGirl has been straight up ripped off by meme sites more times than I care to count. Livid. This kind of brain hasn’t been easy to hone. It’s taken years of acting insane, doing terribly embarrassing things, having lots of tragic relationships and many more horrific dates. I do this so others don’t have to. The depths of market research I put in to one simple tweet is quite complex. I’ve worked hard to bring this content. It’s not for free. People say that one should be flattered by impersonators. I respectfully disagree.

Anyway I stopped tweeting, although I am considering a LostItGirl Twitter now that they’ve introduced voice note tweets…

I’m currently thinking of three potential avenues to explore for my LostItGirl Voice Tweets:

1. Me screaming
2. Me crying
3. Me reading out my diary entries

Back to my diary…

Back to my diary… So apparently writing things down is really good for your zen. My therapist told me so. But I’m not sure it’s that true. My paragraph about the things I hate and the boys I love who change to the boys I hate by the next entry doesn’t really help me at all.

Perhaps writing this blog does, because it’s kind of cathartic, and usually after I submit a post I get concerned calls from the editorial team. These concerns are often then passed on to the “is she okay?” group chat, the Samaritans, and, more often than you might think, the police. It gets me lots of attention, which I just love.

When I was a teenager I had a five-year diary that my mum found and read because she wasn’t a very nice mummy. I recently asked her to dig it out so I can use it for inspiration.

I was a super fcked up teenager so I think it will make for some great reading.

I think that everyone should take this moment to begin writing down their thoughts in a diary. Later down the line, in say 10 or 15 years, your mental 2020 musings will really be a great read…

I’m going to leave you with a few of my other recent diary entries.

Dear Diary,
I saw a boy today
He was quite breathtaking
He was looking at his phone
His mother is having trouble with the dishwasher
I was reading his phone also
Over his shoulder on the tube

Dear Diary,
I fell down some stairs in the tube station
People helped me back to my feet
Now I have to find another way to travel
Probably none of the witnesses will be there again at the same time as me
But that’s just not a risk I’m prepared to take

Dear Diary,
Saw another hot guy today in the street
As we passed he smiled and said “hi”
I said hi back
Turns out he had ear pods in
Think he was making a phone call
I didn’t style it out too well
Currently looking for a new city I can live in