Crystal's Diary

Monday, 23rd February 2015

I'm Crystal. Crystal Manningtree. This is my diary. It's not that I wanted to write one or anything, but my mum's forcing me. She says I need a way to keep track of my 'thoughts and feelings', but really, I bet she just thinks I'm a crazy child, completely out of control and she just wants to sneak a peek at how I'm feeling. Maybe while I'm at school she comes into my room and reads it... I hope not! I'm a tomboy by the way, so don't expect me to be all 'dear diary' this and 'dear diary' that. And I certainly won't be writing about 'secret crushes' or anything. Not that I have a secret crush, because I DON'T. I don't go to a normal school for normal kids. Mainly because I'm not a 'normal' kid. Neither is my best (and only) friend, Anna Woods. We both have, as our parents and teachers call it 'slight issues'. We both go to a school for kids with 'issues'. I don't have mental problems or a disorder or disability. Neither does Anna. That's not how I see it anyway, even though it's what other people might think. But I don't care what other people think. They don't understand. No one understands, not even my parents. NOBODY. Except maybe Anna. We're both just very, very sensitive, and easily get upset in arguments, when things don't go our way, etc. And that happens A LOT. But when we get upset like that, we don't just have a strop or something, then apologise and forget about the whole thing five minutes later. We do very crazy, dramatic things, like kicking down doors, smashing windows, screaming, crying, punching people (or things), etc. Only last year my mum said I wasn't allowed to get my ears pierced, so I screamed and punched her. I was crying so much, and mascara was streaming down my face, leaving ugly black smudges. I was so angry at her because I was the only girl at school without my ears pierced. I punched my wall so many times, and so hard that it not only made a dent in the wall, it also broke my hand. I had also cut my hand quite badly, blood everywhere. You can still see some faint blood stains on my carpet from when that happened, and the dent is still in the wall. I screamed as loud as humanly possible, just as dad got home from work. Here's the story...                                       

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Mum had already been upstairs. She took one look at me and ran back down, hopefully to call the ambulance. That was when the pain really kicked in, and I screamed as dad came in the front door. He asked mum why she was crying. She told him. She told him everything. It was like they didn't even hear my scream, so I yelled again, as blood dripped from my knuckles. The pain was excruciating. They definitely heard me this time, and I heard the thump thump thump of footsteps on the stairs as my parents rushed up to my room.

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