I'm Bonkers and My Name is Wyn
Why does life always have to be so bloody complicated? Just once it would be nice if things would go my way. I swear that God does these things to me on purpose for his own perverse enjoyment. They lack soap operas up there, so he creates his own.
Perhaps I should do some explaining. My therapist Bubba (I’m not joking that’s really his name) thought that writing a diary would be ‘good’ for me; would help me ‘cope’. I was resistant to the idea, but Bubba went over my head and talked to Gran. Being Gran all she had to do was give me one of her famous death glares to gain my compliance. (She can be darn right scary when she does that.) So I therefore find myself writing within this nice leather diary.
Anywho, I think to preserve my sanity I’m going to write this as if to a complete stranger who doesn’t know a thing about me. (I feel like this actually has a point if I’m writing to
someone.) Bubba also thought that writing in this way would help me ‘deal’ with ‘my situation’ in a more healthy and productive way. (Apparently locking oneself in ones room and refusing to come out is neither healthy nor productive, but somewhat nutty instead.)
In this spirit of retaining what little sanity I have left, I’m moving onward in my explanations. My name is Ellewyn Bruvard. To my Gran’s consternation, I prefer to be called Wyn. Not Elle or Ellie or Wynnie; just Wyn please.
I wish I could say that I was strikingly pretty and statuesque… But alas I am not. In truth I only reach 1.68 meters in height (about 5’6’’ if you use that dratted English stuff) and am fairly average in my looks. I typically have a bit of meat on my bones, but after the past two weeks I have gotten thinner and instead of being slender, I look almost gaunt. (My pale skin doesn’t help with the whole gaunt thing.) My bosom, as Gran calls my chest, is nice enough. It’s not like I have melons or anything, but I do have something there. I’m not flat. My hair is a curly brown mass with a tendency toward frizz (unfortunately). The color reminds me of milk chocolate; it’s just a tad bit darker than that. My face is heart-shaped and my features are proportional. The only things that keep my appearance from being totally nondescript are my eyes. They’re violet.
What I lack in the looks department, I feel I have made up for in personality… Well I used to at least. I’m not sure if that is still true now. As early as three weeks ago I was bubbling over with personality. Now I just feel rather numb.
I’ve attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic for the past five years of my schooling. (It’s an all girls school on the Mediterranean coast of France.) Mum always jokes… joked that would do better at Durmstrang, considering how I’m such a tomboy I am. (Durmstrang Institute is located in Northern Europe and is an all boys school.) I come from a long line of Beauxbatons witches. Each one more girly than the last, I might add. Until I was born that is. I like pretty things as much as any sixteen year old girl, but I do have a propensity for tomboy-ish-ness.
Tomorrow I set off for my sixth year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry instead of Beauxbatons. After what Bubba calls “The Incident” (where I locked myself in my room for a week) he recommended to Gran that it might be best if I were to switch schools this year. He thought that a change of scenery would help me get out of the depression I had slipped into.
The so-called “Incident” was bound to happen. A person can only take so much before they break. I mean, I’m only sixteen
for gosh sakes. I shouldn’t have to deal with any of this. The causes of “The Incident” aren’t your classic sixteen year old problems. I think I am completely justified in going a little bit bonkers.
My reasons: 1)My parents were murdered. 2) I got dumped by my boyfriend of two years. 3) My little brother died of an unknown illness at the age of four. 4) I found out I have the same disease. 5) It all happened in the space of a week. Yeah, I think my going nutter was an apt reaction.
This rather different from the fanfiction I typically write. It’s more real in a way than the others are. There are going to be dark moments. Quite a lot I think, with a bit of dark-ish humor. This isn’t a fluff piece.
I’m going through a rough patch right now, which has led to Wyn. She isn’t going to be the bubbliest of narrators, but I hope you find her as interesting as I do.