When you grow up, your heart dies.

To be honest, the first 50 minutes of the “Breakfast Club” was quite mundane. It was my friends’ blatant surprise at me not knowing the existence of the 80’s film that they demanded we watch it this afternoon. Sure, some of the dialogue was quite entertaining, especially the witty repartee that was conducted between “the school rebel” (forgot his name) and the principal.

However, when the aforementioned line was muttered, the truth in them knocked all sense of logic within me. It was true of course; the older the get, the darker the world becomes. You become a regular visitor of the underbelly of life. The cruelties, the hardships, the wars, the unbelievable disparity between the rich and poor ultimately makes your heart cold. It’s like a defence mechanism. In order to protect your heart, you freeze it, hoping and wishing for the day it’ll all be over so it can be warm and beat with love again. Urgh, I’m being hyperbolical again. My stepdad says I exaggerate things a lot, especially when I’m writing. “It’s too dramatic, Fiona, you need to be careful with your adjectives,”. He likened the process of writing to baking a cake. He said I added too much sugar.

I don’t know why I like to dramatise things. Maybe it’s the lack of drama in my life that has influenced me. My mind constantly flies with a gazillion different scenarios I want to find myself in. I guess I should be lucky I never ever find myself caught up in a huge mess. Or maybe life is much simpler than the way they show it in movies. All convoluted with a multiple different subplots happening all at once.

I don’t want to forget.

I used to keep an art diary when I was around 17. I wrote and drew down everything that fascinated me with everyday life. It was the only thing to do, to keep myself entertained. I was convinced that everything in the world had a unique story about it and it was my duty to interpret and keep a record.

It was like a game.

What kind of crazy story will Fiona come up with next?

I need to keep my imagination alive. I somehow have to feed it, nurse the fire to make sure it keeps burning. It’ll be such a shame to throw it all away.

I have in total, 6 weeks to kill on my university break. Alot of time for soul searching :)