New Home

Today I finished he first chapter of my novel dedicated to my mum. I have been using a separate notepad that is usually used to write down recipes. It is small, and I will probably need more paper within the week, but I’ll just have to wait before it does become a problem. I have been thinking about my father, he wouldn’t be back until next Monday, and today is Tuesday. It’s kind of hard to think two days ago it was my birthday, and my birthday present was a dead mum. Most kids just get a new phone or something. I still hadn’t opened the present that Sammy had given me and I had accidentally left it at my old house. My week was to be consisted of sitting on my bed and writing. The policemen are not letting me outside. So I have been restricted to the confines of this house. This house that reeks Union discipline.

I’ll attach a bit of my book onto this journal.

The world is different to the one we see today, yet like it in many. This world shows everything, whereas the world we live in shows only what it wants to be shown. A man strives for power by controlling the will of the people. A woman strives for freedom by believing in the people. This is what the world has come too; the good become bad, and the bad become good. The blinds are drawn across the eyes of the world as the men behind the black screen think of ways to get more power, even though they have it all. No one can speak for they have lost their voices, and their voices are useless in this world of projected images. A woman stands out and speaks for the voiceless, saying what they are scared to. This woman’s death is inevitable, but the continuing power she fights against isn’t.

This entry will be a short one. I apologize to future readers, but my mind isn’t running smoothly anymore. I’m breaking. Let’s just hope my novel is out before I do.