Post by Elizabeth Beauchamp on Jun 24, 2012 6:03:43 GMT
I have decided to keep a journal so I can get all of my swirling thoughts down on paper and out of my head. I don't really know what to call you, so I will call you...Phillip. I've always like the name Phillip.
Dear Phillip,
Until later, Elizabeth
(P.S. Don't have too much fun in my absence, Phillip. I'll know if you do, and I won't be happy ;p)
Dear Phillip,
I have no idea where to start. I guess I'll get my pent-up feelings out first. Let's see...eight years ago my whole family was involved in a car crash caused by a drunk driver. My father, two sisters (Jane and Mary), and myself made it out okay. However, my other two sisters, Lydia and Catherine, were killed on impact. To this day, there is not a day that goes by that I don't think of my sisters. What they would look like. How they would be. Where they would be. I still think that I could have done something to save them. Maybe I should have sat in the back instead of them. I was their big sister. I should have protected them, but I failed. I was found lacking.
Which leads into my feeling of inadequacy due to my ever loving mother. Since birth, I have been a disappointment to her. I was not a good baby like Jane. I cried all night. I wouldn't sit still. I would get food ever. But, it just seemed like she resented me more as I grew up. She wanted me to be beautiful and kind just like Jane. Instead, she got plain and sarcastic me. The comments that she made about my looks while growing up used to hurt me really bad. I would just lay in bed at night, crying, asking myself, "Why wasn't I beautiful?" Eventually, I learned to ignore her comments and act like they didn't affect me, but they did. They still do. Nothing I do is ever good enough for her. I study so hard and make top marks, and the only thing that she cares about is how I need to make myself prettier so at least some guy will date me, maybe. She just doesn't understand me, and I really don't want to care what she thinks. But, I do. I can't help myself. She's my mother. Of course I am going to care about what she thinks. My only reprieve from her growing up was Mary, Jane, and sometimes my father. They were the only ones that I would ever let in because I knew that they would never hurt me.
This was true until a few days ago. It was the anniversary of the car accident, and I was trying to keep my mind occupied by reading by the fire in the common room. It wasn't doing too good of a job because I just started crying, and then laughing while crying. I was a mess, but I thought I was alone, so it didn't matter. The thing is, I wasn't alone. Mackenzie Stone was there to see me in one of my weakest moments, and I actually didn't freak him out. I never really made friends at Hogwarts because I didn't want to let them in, but Mack seemed to break that down easily. He comforted me, made me feel better, and I told him about myself. And then he told me about himself. And we talked for hours. Oh, Phillip. If only you could know how truly awesome of a person he is. He is so kind, and sweet, and not to mention, hot. However, he has a girlfriend, who is kind of a bitch, but he is still with her. I have such strong feelings for him, but I can't act on them. I don't want to be labeled a man-stealing whore, because that is just not who I am. I don't hurt people intentionally. I just don't know what to do anymore. I wish you were real, Phillip, so then maybe you could give me advice on what to do.
Until later, Elizabeth
(P.S. Don't have too much fun in my absence, Phillip. I'll know if you do, and I won't be happy ;p)
