32

I was on a camp.
Most of it was awful. I cried myself to sleep two or three nights in a row.
I felt alone most of the time. I felt like everyone hated me.
I'm pretty sure they did but I no longer care.

The last night payed it all off. We were seated in a circle, and passed a candle to the next after telling how we felt about this camp.
I stared at the candle for a very long time before starting.
"In the beginning of the camp.. well, of course I didn't want to come here. Well not of course but you know. But I don't know, it was cool. Fine. I had fun. Wow I can't say anything more before crying."

I had so much more to say.
You are all still strangers to me. But I had fun while looking from outside to inside and I loved being part of this. Even tho you all didn't like me being a part of this.
Or
I cried myself to sleep for the first three nights. I felt like shit most of the camp. And I'm sorry for being a shit. 

Didn't.
We still have a celebration - a formal party and an after party that follows it. But I think that I will be fine with seeing everyone.

27

Mum braided my hair once in Paris -

in the way that it formed a clean halo of hair around my head and I smiled to the mirror while she was trying to figure out how to do it.

After she was finished she looked me for a moment, smiled and said:

"It's nice to see your face again."

I was puzzled, I never have my bangs on my eyes - it's always up or somehow in my bun.

How is it possible that she hasn't seen my face?

The answer hit me yesterday.

In Paris I was truly happy, happier than I had been in months and maybe I glowed in the way that the black veil of sadness had been removed 

22

(Dear diary)

I feel like no one cares anymore.
About me, about my stories, about my thoughts.
I feel like everyone hates me, but it might be my own hate reflecting from bodies made of mirrors.

21

It's been a while since I've written anything. Or at least anything good.
I didn't have any writing classes this semester - we don't write anything in English and it's been so long since I've had any writing classes in my native language.
And the thing is that I actually really miss my writing teacher. She encouraged (encourages?) me to write and she is about the only person who has seen my writing.
We don't count my friends that I show my writing assignments if they show me theirs because i get only comments like I didn't get it or It was ok after they are done with them. Not that I say anything else. They keep telling me that I'm a good writer and I should make a career out of it but then again what makes them think so? All my writing for school is messed up and weird and I write it under pressure and leave out all the good bits that could light the gunpowder on fire. That gunpowder is the reason why I don't show my writing to my family. And they wouldn't respect it at all.

But that teacher on other hand?
She hasn't seen the best of it but keeps reminding me to write, giving me good grades on my assignments (even tho they are a bit shit), asking about going on writing classes outside school.

I haven't written anything in ages and I feel like I'm letting her down a bit.
Then again why should I write when other teachers (read: group-student-counselor-who-is-a-bit-shit) keep telling me that I will not be a writer?