Here's the sequel! Argh! Sequel! Bit Hyper!

Have decided to put a little twist on the way I write this one, so enjoy! And it should be kinda funny!


I'm back! Amy Flemming is back on the map. That rhymed! Sorry I'm in kinda a good mood. Okay let's go back to my original subject. I have decided to keep a diary, I know. I'm gonna keep tabs on everything that goes on in my tragic life. It will be like Anne Frank, but more depressing. The kids of the future will be studying it in-depth, all in awe of my painful youth. I will become majorly famous, and have historians all across the world, in deep thought, trying to analyse why I wrote that word, and why I put that person's name in capitals. Children will sit, fiddling aimlessly with their cyber brains in front of them, (computers of the future, they read your mind), while there dreary teacher,(still from my era) pulls out a copy of my diary, that has been printed by the millions all over the world; from his world war two brief case. There will be gasps, echoing around the room at the sight of my picture. (Think I'm going slightly overboard) Their eyes locked on the title, 'Story Of My Life', oh so cleverly thought of by mwa. The teacher, will then ask them; 'why do you think she used the title 'Story Of My Life',' because those our the really stupid questions, they ask these days. One of my biggest fan's hand will shoot up, and he will cry with passion, "Because, it is simple. Her life is complicated! Play on words!" To be honest, I often marvel how such little things people did in the olden days, can be studied in such depth; that it actually makes your head hurt.

So that is what I am going to do, I will keep you updated on EVERYTHING that happens in my life. Take note future historian, I used 'capitals'. I am going to dedicate this to you, and my future fan club, lead by the famous historian; who I am going to call, Mr Harper. Got a good ring to it.

I will start today, the beginning of my new life, new friends... Sigh's oh so dramatically!... And Ty... Ah!... Fall's giddily on to bed, hand on heart, tears in eyes...

Friday the fourth of January 2013 is the day...

Friday 4th January - Had to write it again for effect.

I am laying in bed, a pillow pulled over my head; in a bonnet like fashion. (My own creation) Why? You ask? Well because of the loud bellowing coming from the bathroom, echoing painfully around the house, bouncing of every single; nook and cranny; making my eardrum's throb in agony. (Bit dramatic) What bellowing? You ask? Again. Simple, tiny, weeny little fact... Adam is singing, in the shower. Ouch. He seems to feel, like torturing the world, is part of his daily routine, something about cleansing his thoughts. My handwriting is now majorly wobbly, sporting the look of a nursery student; due to the fact of my large pillow-bonnet.

Just got a text from Chloe.

Mum, just literally threw me out of bet. Obviously deciding, it was time to wake up. Time of child abuse, 5am. Need I say more?


Why do parent's do that? Why is it they feel the need to push the rights, that little bit too far. I rolled over, sighing dramatically (it's a habit) readying myself for the effort of texting, half blind, and with a head ache. This was not the day; for flying and trying to look half decent. With another huge sigh (just to rub it in, that teeny bit more) I swing my legs of the side of the bed, in an olympic gymnast type fashion; effortlessly rising to my feet, full arm extension included. (Obviously, was so not 'effortlessly', just try to go with it).

With a hop, skip and a jump, (more of a waddle) I flew into the bathroom (obviously not humanly possible). With all the power I could muster, at 6:00 in the morning, I yelled at Adam. (Not much power, cause Adam snorted) (Rude).


Have washed, and downed healthy breakfast, ready for the day. Adam just snorted and told me a doughnut is not, he repeats not a healthy option. Bit abrupt I think. Am now dedicating my time, till lift off (LOL), to making my room, a sort of modern-art-box gallery. The boxes are a hundred percent original, chemical free (have absolutely no idea, just go with it) and cardboard?


Chloe and Emily have arrived, and are now admiring my latest skill: Modern-Art-Boxing. I have been told it is, I quote 'eh... Orignal' by Emily. That's the thanks I get, to dedicating my life to art.


Adam has just appeared, striding into the living room; a pile of boxes in his arms, trying to achieve the manly look. So not working. Chloe just jabbed me with a very sharp pencil, telling me to mention he has very good arm muscles. He's my twin for goodness sake.


Adam has completed his show of attempted manliness, with both my friends; leaning wistfully against a box mountain.


Box mountain, life extinct. Died as Emily, leant in a daze against it; causing it to oh so sadly tumble to the ground; knocking Chloe out on the way. Oh so sad.


Dad just marched in and told us to grow up. Rather hypercritical, I think. Did I mention, he has decided to collaborate with Adam and create 'Falling Rain'. My invention, the bellowing has become two, a harmony. (Yeah right). Haven't actually told them of my inspired title (Inspired by what you say? You really have to stop saying things. Anyway inspired by a shower, water falling. Falling water, kinda sounded weird so I have made it an outdoor-themed title, keeping with nature, that sort of thing).


Am sitting in empty bedroom, (as result of Adam-manlyness-show), slumped down against wall; rolling my eyes repeatedly, as both Chloe and Emily sway, in unison across bare floor, dreaming of Adam. Must text Ty, and go in search of civilisation.


Have text Ty, dramatically expressing my need for normal people. Chloe and Emily are now attempting to ball room dance around my room. Not exactly working.


Emily is now lying, oh so dramatically on my bedroom floor, crying in pain; as a result of a rather ambitious leg kick on Chloe's part. Have suggested CPR, received a death glare from Emily.


Emily is still alive, now extremely well after the appearance of Adam. I quote 'her savour'. Hand is still held dramatically on heart as she seeks for her long-lost Romeo (Adam), who disappeared 5 minutes ago.


Adam has reappeared, and is in his element; laughing along at some weird joke I don't get.


Just been told it was about me. Rude.


Nearly at airport, have been in-car for a whole 60 minutes, that's an hour by the way. Am squished between Chloe and Emily, as according to Dad 'guest's must have priority seats'. Adam however has taken the front seat.


Just been told by Dad, to stop breathing, as am steaming up window. Outrageous.


Will just drown myself in music...


Just been jabbed by Chloe, she wants me to say that Adam is being very nice to her. What is it with my friends and Adam? Emily just said, 'his looks'.


At airport, sporting a row of dreary chairs, as I lay across them; dreaming of Ty.


Emily and Chloe have both joined me, minstrels and giant chocolate buttons included.


Dad just rounded us up and dragged us to the suitcase-checkpoint-thingy. Smiled wearily at woman behind the counter, think she went slightly over the top with the make up, nearing the gothic look.


Turns out this lady has one of those monotone, high-pitched voices. 'Thank you, are thanks dear'. Doesn't really work with the gothic look.


About to take off, sitting in an aisle seat, searching for any sign of soul-eating-woman. No sign yet.


Soul-Eating-Woman no-show, Soul-Eating-Man has appeared. Shall I continue?


Just been told by Adam; to stop talking to a book. Rude. I am supplying my future fan club, and Mr Harper my world-war-two historian.


Am so bored, have watched the same film repeatedly. Has drove me insane. Both Emily and Chloe are asleep, and Adam is permanently plugged into the latest song.


So bored... Might as well go to sleep now...

So that's the first chapter! Please review, will need a lot if you want me to update!

Thank you for all the reviews for the first story! I'm glad you all liked it!