27/11/22
Dear Diary,
Today I was woken up by the frantic screams of my parents from the living room, I was puzzled by this as my walls are quite thick and it’s hard to make out any noise from rooms outside of mine.
I ran down the stairs, nearly tripping as I skidded down a few, to find the television turned on to the news. My country has broken out in war. News reporters are screaming into their mics with strong wind muffling out their voices.
This doesn’t feel real, I stand there still in time with the sound of my parent's voices fading into the distance, their shrieks getting softer and softer. My eyes burn, the television going in and out of focus, I feel a hot tear roll down my cheek as I go and sit down to process everything.
School isn't on today, I had a big maths test I had spent weeks studying for, and I'm going to miss it. I know it doesn’t seem like a big problem but it's hard to process the fact that my house could be hit by something any minute.
Dad is in the kitchen telling mum he's going to fight for his country, and mums shouting at him. She's not angry he's leaving she's just worried he’ll get injured maybe even killed. I don’t want him to go either but I understand.
I hope I don’t need to leave and move country; I like where I live. I like the walk to school in the morning, it's quiet and the air has that bitter taste that it loses as time goes on. The sun still rising, feeling like the only one on this earth, the trees still. I don’t want to leave and be somewhere I'm not familiar with.
I run up to my room, my parents are too loud. I pick up my phone and scroll through the newsfeed on the war. I still don’t understand what's going on. I understand the conflict and the fact we are being bombed and attacked, what I don’t understand is why they would bring innocent people's lives into their own stupid conflicts. They're fighting over land, I don't understand, what's wrong with the land they already have? Why do they even want more, what are they going to do with it?
My friends are frantically texting me and we’re all scared about what’s going to happen. Yesterday we planned to go into the town on Saturday now we’re worried about not getting killed. I hate this.
Mum and Dad have stopped arguing, the house is deathly silent. It feels like time has stopped, I'm unsure if I've to get on with my day or sit in my room and cry.
I run downstairs to grab some water, my throat hurts. Mum missing, and dad says she's gone to stock up on food in case of a lockdown. Dad tells me he’s leaving tomorrow, I'll miss him.
I burst out crying, he might not come back, then what will I do? I don’t want him to leave, I hug him tight for what fells like forever. I know he will have to go but I still don’t want to believe it.
I walk into the living room barely grasping onto my water. I fall onto the couch and turn on the television. I pull out my phone and stare at the articles I've already read, zoning out the news reporters telling us the same things repeatedly. I feel numb, I feel nothing. My life has been turned upside down in the space of hours. Yesterday I planned to study a bit for my maths test then head off to school not wake up to my country falling apart.
Mums home. I hear the door open, but she doesn’t say a word. She drops the bags and heads straight to the bathroom. I hear her muffled crying through the door, but I won't disturb her when I myself am struggling to hold back tears.
I sit there for hours although it felt like ten minutes. Dinners ready. We all head up to the table. Mum made soup. I love her soup but the thought of eating lovely warm soup whilst my country is at war revolts me. I sit there swirling my spoon in my bowl of soup, everyone is silent, and nobody dares to eat the soup. Mum stands up and walks off to her bedroom leaving me and dad to sit here in silence. Dad eventually gets up and collects the bowls of soup nobody has touched.
I walk up to my room and fall into my bed. I check my clock, it reads 8:36. I could do with an early night. I walk into the bathroom and stare in the mirror as I break down, life won't be the same, will it? Dad might not make it back home; mum might never leave her bed. I might lose my house, I might never see my friends, and I might even die! This can't be real, I don’t want to die, I have so much planned out. I want to go to university; I want to buy a house and I want to live old. I don’t want to die this young. My face is red and hot, and my eyes are puffy.
My legs shake as I bring them to my bed, I bring out my diary and write this as my tears cover the pages, making my pen bleed and my words become almost unrecognizable. Good night, hopefully not my last.
I’ll speak tomorrow,
Eva xx
Eva, St Joseph's Academy
