I'm so lonely, hidden away, hiding inside myself. Am I hiding from myself? I live inside anothers body, sometimes, I think. It's odd. Very odd. I'm odd. I'm different to everyone else. I'm different. Who cares? Me.

I care. I care too much. People really hurt me. I'm not invulnerable. Just like everyone else. The thing is, the people with the problems make it so obvious. You'd think I had no feelings with my temper and the way I fight. But I'm sensitive. Does anyone understand?

I have a front. Wow. The only reason I have it is because I couldn't survive with you all otherwise. Can none of you see that?

I feel really worthless. Any point of me writing this? Maybe. I don't think so, though. Maybe I want to be me for a change. Not some character that's being forced all the time. I'm not made up. I'm real. I make up lots of things. I often have imaginary friends, and they seem so real, I believe that they live. Why do you think everyone thought I've gone off my rocker?

Can I live any longer? Is it a crime to walk the earth? To breathe? To live? I question things a lot. Does it get me down to an answer? No. No, no, no. For instance: Who am I? I'm Masuki Longstrotte. Who's she? She is a human being. What's a human being? Some kind of life form... What's a life form? Uh.. something? What's something? Something is a thing. What's a thing? A thing is something. What's som- See. Why do people think I'm wierd. I question too much. Precious few people get close enough to me, to see the way I think. None of them have been able to understand it...

Aren't I useless. I'm going now, writing this is depressing me. Goodbye...

* * * * *

Lucy:

Dear Diary,

OK, cutting to the chase. I am not writing this of my own freewill. I would explain, but I don't want anyone finding this diary and peeping in...

I'll have to hide it, because diaries are for telling your secrets to. Screw everyone else. It's me that counts. It's me that counts. It's me that cou... That is so untrue. I'll explain:

My parents were 'concerned' that I have a mental help problem - and I do - but it isn't my fault. Also, apparently I'm muddled up in the head. So I have to see a psychiatric. And guess what? She gives me homework. And that will take ages in my addition to school homework. This was the homework actually. To pour yourself into the diary. They think I'm crazy? I think the psychiatric is crazy.

I get laughed at a lot, when people realise that I have a mental health disorder, and its really unfair. So she says to me, that it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. It's what I think. Easy for her to say. I think this is something to do with some nerves in the brain... and, well, I don't think like other people. I have my own unique way of thinking. Most often I don't use common sense though. She said that it makes sense, because other people are slowly but surely pushing me out, and I'm letting them do it, so I'm being pushed back into my shell. She said it's dangerous, and no wonder I'm so quiet. And people are always trying to limit where I go, I think that they get the idea I'd try suicide if I found the available equipment... Probably would too. Apparently it's because of my mental health, so I can't see things clearly. That's a bunch of crap to me. I see things in my own way.

So I'm nervous. It's not my fault. My family aren't very supportive, they despise the fact that have this mental health disorder. Now I live with my grandparents. They're still pretty cruel too, believe me... It's not fair. Why must the hard life always go to me?

Well, diary, I'm telling all this, but you can't hear, you can't see the ink, it's useless, but writing this down helps to clear my head. Now I have to hide this so no one else gets hold of it. I don't want any of the students knowing about my problem. I don't even think the head knows... I have note for him somewhere. I'll deliver it to him later, at the start of term. I have to go now. Bye diary, you're there when I need you...

Going, going, gone.

* * * * *

Armandor:

Dear Diary...

Woah, that just sounds stupid, but it seems to be a sort of tradition to write in journals, so I'll stick with it.

Not really done that much today, went to the ice cream parlour a few days back, and I was talking to a girl... Can't remember her name though... I haven't got the best memory. I'm going into 6th Year now, but I still don't see how I can have any friends.. You can't hide things from friends can you? And I don't lie. I never lie. But I wouldn't be able to tell the truth, they wouldn't understand...

How can you have a real friend and keep secrets from eachother? I don't understand how... My history is a deep black shadow, in the middle of a patch of mist, and its so deep into the mist, that I find it hard to reveal it to myself. Hence me writing this diary. I wouldn't usually write something like this, too much like homework, but to reveal myself to me... to prove myself to me... now that's a different matter. I'm going to sign off here for now, this may as well do as my introduction...

Armandor.