Part One: Diary
August 24th 1996
I love you
June 3rd 2010DEAR DIARY!
Hahahaha. What’s your name, Diary? So good to meet you. Arrgh…
June 4th 2010She wants me to write in a fucking diary. I haven’t written on paper since I was in high school! Alice. Why?…
June 6th 2010
June 6th 2010
My name is Callum Colburn and I am thirty-four years old. Sometimes I find myself think how did I get so old. I still feel like I’m twenty sometimes. But that was fifteen years ago. I met Alice that year… Oh Alice… I’m so sorry.
I wrote that entry at seven this morning. It’s about six pm now. I just finished work and I am sitting in the parking lot because I don’t want to have to drive back to that goddamn dingy apartment. But. I will. Because I love her. Oh god… What did I do?
I’m a police officer. Not some fancy detective or anything, just a regular walk the streets kind. Sometimes I’ll direct traffic or something, I donno. Tomorrow I’m on patrol again. I like patrolling. I’m usually drafted to the sixth precinct; it’s a rough area I tell you, but I’ve made friends there now. Stan who runs the bakery is a top bloke. He always gives a wave whenever I’m walking past. Sometimes I’ll buy a bun or something… I always like to see the underdog triumph, especially over all these supermarkets that seem to be springing up around the area. Stan deserves it though, I reckon… he’s a top bloke. I think it’s cause it remind me of my hometown is why I like it. It’s rough around the edges, but people still have respect for each other. People still keep their milk bottle neat for the milkman; their letterboxes empty for the mailman. Even the ruffians in a way; most of the break-in’s are kids who’ll just take a bottle of coke and a video game or something. Everyone
June 7th 2010Fell asleep writing last night. I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I had a younger sister who was born two years after me; her name was Calliope. She drowned in the bath when she was two. I think that after that was when my mam and pa grew apart. I think my pa wanted to have more children, but my mam was too heartbroken to try again. She took some of her anger out on me when I was growing up, and I used to hate her for it, but it was only after she died when I was sixteen did I realise the reason why she was so bitter. I and my pa mourned for a long time after that. If he hadn’t have been hit by that car, I think he would have died of a broken heart; only true love kept him attached to that woman.
I was a young man by then. Twenty. I met Alice on the day of his funeral. After I’d gone to a coffee shop, where I sat and contemplated what I was going to do with my life. An orphan at twenty, I thought. Before I knew it I was bawling my eyes out as loud as a grown man could. And then there she was, the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life, and she was asking me to keep it down. Well, if mouth ever dropped so low. She had mousy brown hair up in a tight bun, and dull green eyes. A non-form fitting apron gave her away as one of the waitresses, but to me she looked perfect. Her face changed to concern and she asked me “Are you OK?” All I could do was croak a small “No.” before I started bawling again. She was perfect... so perfect. She took me outside and listened to all my problems, wiped up my snotty nose and sent me on a cab ride home, with her number inside my pocket. I guess she was on her break, that day, I never asked her.
After three weeks of depression and moping about the house in my underwear, I finally remembered the piece of paper that she had slipped into my pants pocket, and called her to thank her for what she did. I returned to the café to thank her in person, and the rest is history.. I suppose. Oh... Alice.
June 8th 2010We had been dating for three years when I proposed. We lived in a small flat together, while I was still in the academy. Everything was perfect at that time. She was the manager of the cafe and I was well on my way to becoming a police officer, I was... happy. I made sure that it was romantic for her. I took her to Wavell Park, which over looked the entire city, with a picnic basket and fake wine. She always liked it better than the real stuff. She opened up the basket and the ring was sitting right on top of the salad. She looked up at me, a look of pure shock filling her face “Will you?” I said, grinning wildly. I didn’t expct her to start crying. “Alice, what’s wrong?” I was so scared. I didn’t understand what was
going on. Sorry Diary, had to stop what I was doing... emergency earlier today. A terrorist threat in the second precinct. All hands on deck for the next little bit. Something Blew up a few shop fronts, but they couldn’t find any bombs it didn’t look very blown up when I saw it. It was more like someone had .. chopped the stores in half, like they were slicing a giant onion. That’s the official explanation. It isn’t my issue though. All I am supposed to think about at the moment is you (that is this diary haha.. I have started to refer to it as a person) and my past. My psychologist said it would help... or something. Anyway, so she started crying, and she tells me that she thought no man could love her because she was barren. I smiled and told her I’d always love her, even if she looked like the anus of a walrus. She looked so cute when started laughing, i can still picture the face in my mind. Red and puffy eyes from crying and a great big mouth filled with laughter. We were inseperable after that.
June 10th 2010
... today was a bad day. Terrorists goddamn blowing up just about half the city.
Alice and I broke because I cheated on her with her best friend and she was pregnant but as she was running she fell and lost the baby and I was so sad and we have been separated for six months and it’s killing me inside and everyday I contemplate suicide because I hate myself I hate myself.. I just fucking want to die. I have nothing left to live for anymore oh god alice I love youand it’s killing me…