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Creative Corner
Molly’s Diary (based on the novel Private Peaceful by Michael Morpurgo) By Nina Culea, Year 9O
Dear Diary, You don’t know me yet, so let me introduce myself; my name is Molly and I’m currently really ill, which is the reason for which I’m starting to write in you. Ever since I got infected with Scarlet Fever, I’ve been stuck inside the house, which wouldn’t be that bad if my parents were nicer.
I used to love school- learning about new things excites me-
My parents have always been very strict; the smallest
constantly talking about what a disappointment I am and
mistakes throw them off and I’m constantly required to be
about how I should’ve been more careful not to become ill.
perfect. Having to be something completely unachievable-
They didn’t know I could hear them; they didn’t know I could
or more to the point nonexistent- like perfect, is harder
hear all those mean remarks and things they said about me,
than you might think. You have the constant pressure to
but I could, and everyday those remarks hurt worse than a
act lady-like or to always pay attention to the little details
knife stabbing my heart.
and I was lucky to have Miss McAllister as my teacher this year. Unfortunately, because of my sickness, I haven’t been able to go to school, so I’m stuck at home listening to my parents complain about their imperfect daughter. Since the first day I missed school, I have heard my parents
to make sure you make no mistakes, but after a while that pressure starts getting to you. You start believing you need
During times like this, I want to just let go, but I continue
to be perfect and you never take a moment to analyse that
fighting for them.
thought because you’re too scared that would throw your perfect schedule off, so your perfect route through your
Charlie and Thomas are my best friends. We used to go
perfect life would imperfectly fall apart.
poaching together or run as if there was no tomorrow. I once even threw rocks in a lake to predict our future, and that was
Since being quarantined, I haven’t been able to call myself
that we would all be together forever. Who would’ve known
perfect anymore, which was fine by me, but not by my
that the people supposed to love me the most would cut
parents.
that dream into little pieces?
