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Dear diary
I thought this place was everything I wanted, everything I needed. I was looking for a home away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Somewhere where music was birdsong. Not this place.

As I sit on my broken chair water drops drip from the broken ceiling onto my head. The floor is more hole than wood, and everything is either sad or dead. The animals. The rats left this place first, and the birds flew away years ago. Even the forest is sad and dark. The leaves are dropping off the trees, and the shrubs are so dark they are more black than green.

As I look through my broken window, past my broken balcony out over the lake I see a small man in a small boat with a small fishing rod. He looks happy. Does he have everything he both wants and needs? Is that why he is happy?

 

 

Dear Diary, 

 

Another day has passed in my shed. I saw the three fishermen on the lake again today and I saw them catch a very big fish. I wish I had the equipment to catch fish. I would catch many, I would do it all day long and when I went to bed I would dream about all the fish I would catch the next morning. 

 

I enjoy sitting and listening to the sea and the fishermen. They always cheer me up.

 

I thought this would be nice, to be alone with only my thoughts and the sea. Now I realize what it is like here. Sad and lonely. If the fishermen weren’t here, I would be completely alone and isolated from everyone else. Two people came to visit the lake today, they got to see the ducks which come once a month. I occasionally go outside but not often as the winter is too cold for me. 

 

I could taste the cold air flying in and out of my mouth. The dragonfly came today and we talked for a bit. Hopefully tomorrow is a bit better.

Dear Diary,

 

Again today, I silently watched as the sad, grey atmosphere sucked away the last of the joy and beauty of this once stunning oasis. I wanted it to stop. To stop my sorrow. To stop my disappointment. But I am not the controller of this place.

 

The Fisherman came back, but he is old and has forgotten that all of the fish are dead. And yet he can still enjoy the lake's calm and peaceful ways. He does not understand this place in the way I do. For only I could hear the quiet waves gently lapping the bank in a way of longing. Only I could feel the cool air making the back of my neck tingle, telling me to go away. 

 

Now as I sit on the bench I can see that the oasis will always be ruined and there is nothing I want more than to make it change back into its former glory. But a wise person once said that the things I want get in the way of things I need. I do not understand it now but in time I hopefully will. Do I have both? Do I have one and not the other? 

 

I do not know. Neither does the Wise man. Neither does the Fisherman. Neither does the lake. Only fate does.

 

Signed,

 

Me.

Dear Diary,

 

Another day, another dreadful load of moments. I can't believe I'm still living here. I hate this place. It's just so boring and dull, nothing to do. The only thing I can do is get everything off my daily list.

 

Things to do:

  • Get wood

  • Catch fish

  • Go on a boat ride to pass time

  • Sit on sofa bored and lonely

 

I've had this idea for a while now of building an extension to my hut but it just sounds too difficult and too much hard work for one person. There is a fisherman that might like to help me but I don't know where he lives and I don't think he would want to help me anyway. He's probably got too much stuff to do himself like fishing, getting wood, making things and spending time with his family. 

 

I've just got everything off my list and when I was doing so, I had an idea. I want to go on an adventure, in fact I need to go on an adventure. I have never done that since I've been here. It might be the first time I’ve done something that might actually be fun in this place. Adventure here I come!

Dear Diary

 

The rain pours down onto the lake like bullets on metal. I hear a clap of thunder like drums from above my head. As I am sitting on this hard floor I watch the birds hiding away in the trees and the fish darting like arrows across the bottom of the pool. The reeds sway like ribbons with the waves. The evening song of the birds has died away now, and has been replaced by the buzz of 1 million insects hovering over the lagoon. I wonder what I want, do I need all this ? It is nice to be away from all the work and noises of the city. For all those noises and smells to be replaced with the noises and smells of the jungle. The smell of the vibrant flowers and the noise of splashing water as it cascades down the waterfalls. The tune of the birds as they play me a lullaby to sleep. The jungle buzzes with life, at both night and day. The sun is here all the time, and it makes me wonder….  Is what we want, what we need? Or do we need, what we want?

Dear diary

 

I feel odd. It’s probably because my only friends are the birds that wake me up every morning with their beautiful songs, and sing lullabies for me every night. I might name them, though it’s quite hard to name birds just by the sound of their songs. I could be going insane, or there is actually a boat out there.  I doubt it, it seems unlikely after twelve long years of isolation, no-one around except those birds, my birds.

 

I rubbed my eyes. There is definitely something out there. I’m sure of it. Why? No-one comes here. I feel like there’s something I’m missing. Do I know them? I came here to get away, to be on my own, And now my plan has been ruined. It’s nice here, a bit lonely at times, but nice. And I like it that way, not ruined by some family member or friend, just me. Family member or friend. I need some of those. I think I’m going home. I don’t need to be on my own, I need to be with my family, it’s clear now. Thank you, whoever you are in that boat. I hope this diary I left for you has made you happy, it has for me.

Dear Diary

 

At first I thought moving here would be amazing and that I would get to be closer to nature and further away from my embarrassing family.

 

Well for a start all of the birds have left. I used to watch them fly around but now I watch the rats run around my house. When I say around I mean under the floorboards and in the walls. However you may think that the walls and floorboards protected me, well they did the opposite, they were forever rotting from the rain.  Now I’m sitting in my decaying wooden chair, looking out the window waiting for light.  The reason being is that it always rains and I live in the deepest depths of the woods. I wish so much that Prince Charming would sweep me off my feet and take me away, but that’s just a dream. You’re probably wondering why I’m just winning, not moving back but where I come from it is not that simple. But here I am waiting in a small dark shack, in the deepest darkest depths of the wood. Dreaming of light and happiness.

Dear Diary,

Day 48

It is becoming unbearable, the loneliness, the pain, I can’t take it. The creatures are watching me. I don’t deserve this. The constant taste of rotten flesh driving me into the depths of insanity and making me want to thrust myself down the bubbling burning crater of the volcano. One step out of line and I will be devoured. They show no mercy. The air is humid and I can taste it on my tongue as I write this, droplets of rancid water landing around me. I tell myself that I have all I need but I am starting to question this. My food supply is growing ever more scarce and I have already had to start boiling the seawater. My head lightens and my time grows thinner. I must finish the boat. I must escape this God forsaken land. If I do not die I will seek revenge and I will kill them. I will show them my strength. The beast, it's coming now. It will kill me. I am running out of ink. I have no paper. This shall be my final entry. I am going to die. The words they said to me are lies. “We are banishing you to the island of despair, you will have what you need”.

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