This is what I wrote in answer to a question I recieved at school. Here's the question:

Write a series of journal entries where an individual reflects on the experiences encountered on a journey undertaken through a particular landscape.

12th June

I was so tired today. It took all that I had just to move from the soft cage of my bed. All day, I walked through haze. Fog crowded my mind, messed up the signals in my brain so instead of walking I tried to sit and what I thought was a door turned out to be a wall when I walked into it.

Suffice to say, it didn't end well. The wall was fine. I wasn't. Now on top of the cloudy interior of my mind, I have a throbbing headache that seems to be splitting my conscious in two.

I just hope I'm better tomorrow.

13th June

I couldn't even get out of bed today. My arms were lead, my legs steel. My mouth felt cottony and my head as though it was stuffed with wadding.

Instead of the human I was, I felt like a life-sized Barbie.

Hopefully, I wake up relatively normal tomorrow.

14th June

This morning, I found a flower growing out of my roof. I told my mother and she just stared at me. I don't know if she wanted to laugh or cry.

I think 'normal' decided to sleep in.

16th June

My mother dragged me to the doctor today. I told her I was fine, but she didn't believe me or the pink fairy on my shoulder. So I sat in the waiting room for countless hours, the silence writhing around me like rain on a winter's morning. I stared at the wall, wondering why there was a scaled hand clawing its way towards me. When I saw the doctor, I told him I liked his tie. He said he wasn't wearing one and shared one of those 'This can't be good' looks with my mother.

I decided from then on I didn't like ties.

20th June

The doctor called today. I watched my mother talk with him on the phone, her face shifting from a nervous forced calm, to pale worry, and then finally, when the ringing beep signalled the call was over, she looked at me with such a fear in her eyes that I didn't bother telling her about the dragon.

She had other things to worry about.

22nd June

The diagnosis came in.

The doctor talked in that calm, professional voice that all doctor's seem to share while my mother sobbed into my shoulder. I had stopped seeing things to only be overcome by an overwhelming sense of loneliness that I just wished for the fairy to come back.

I'd rather be crazy than alone.

30th June

I was dying.


The doctor told me, slowly, calmly, sadly. I had sat, listened, fought down a bubble of laughter. There was a dwarf dancing on the doctor's desk. I kept my face determinedly calm. The dwarf kept danicng.

I was dying.

8th July

Lying on my bed today, I stared out at the exotic landscape that my ceiling had become. All emerald and azure and mauve cottony clouds. The pink fairy was there. And the dwarf. They were dancing around a glittering silver pool, the water like liquid glass. In the surface was my face.My face before the fairy. Before the dwarf.

Before I started to die.

15th July

My mother's always crying now. Every time I see her she is on the verge of succumbing to emotion and misery. I try to comfort her as much as I can. But it's getting harder. I'm so tired. So exhausted. I just want to sleep...

But every night I dream of that landscape through my ceiling. I watch the fairy and the dwarf. Dancing around the silver pool. And in its glittering depths in my old self.


I'm just so tired.

28th July

I woke up happy today.

My ceiling was bare and I checked under my bed for the dwarf. He wasn't there and I left my room with a sense of purpose. My mother was asleep; and I kissed her tear-streaked face. I knew what was coming and I smiled at the thought of sleep. Untouched, untainted sleep. As I passed a mirror, my old face smiled out at me. I smiled back; dreamily, happily. Accepting.

I walked down the hallway. The fairy was there. And the dwarf. The dragon was guarding the front door but it moved as I approached. I touched its charcoal snout in silent thanks.

And I walked towards the door and it became a shimmering, hazy portal. I looked back. The pink fairy nodded. The dwarf waved.

I said goodbye and smiled. The exotic landscape of my ceiling lay on the other side of the door. I knew this and it made me happy. Because when I stepped through, I knew I would no longer be dying.

I would be sleeping.

Hey. I got Seventeen out of Twenty for this, which I think is pretty good considering I wrote it during roll-call. :P I'm proud of it. I didn't think it would get much because they weren't really journal entries, just first person ramblings stemming from my sleep deprived mind.

I don't function properly in the mornings. Seriously. This morning I was making a cup of tea and I put sugar in my cup, put my cup in the fridge, and started pouring hot water in the sugar container.

And for me to write coherently early in the morning is a massive accomplishment.