brainrot dump👹

…

I walk a lonely road

The only one that I have ever known

Don’t know where it goes

But it’s home to me, and I walk alone.

-Boulevard of Broken Dream (2004), Green Day

…

[Journal Entry 1]

I think one thing most people don’t understand is how much it freaking sucks starting over again. Especially when you finally got the thing that you were looking for…only for life to take it freaking away like it doesn’t even matter.

That’s one thing at least me and Linkin Park have in common.

Tried so hard. Got so far. / But in the end, it doesn’t even matter.

I still don’t get the hate against Linkin Park. Or that song. It seems appropriate now as I find myself writing in my new journal at the crack of dawn in London-town in the room I picked out as mine.

We’ve just arrived to London almost an hour ago, Papi all tight as we gone through customs at Heathrow airport. Not that I blame him. It’s the least favorite part of all of our trips where the custom officers stares at you, asks stupid questions to your parents, then asks you stupid questions about what are you excited about moving into the UK.

I had to bite my tongue and lie as I said, “Hopefully, I’ll make new friends.” I said it with such a sweet smile on my face that I hope that I gave that man diabetes.

.

.

-_-

.

*rolls eyes*

Mami once said I shouldn’t wish bad things upon people, especially when they did nothing to you…but it’s hard. Really hard when you’re somewhere you don’t want to be.

Maybe I should try looking at what I do want can and can do…at least that’s what my godfather, Aiden O’Ruairc, said. He gave me one of his family ring as a parting gift in case I ever needed anything while in the UK at my birthday party…it was the last reunion I had at my home before we had to fly over here a few days later. And now we’re here.

And now, taking a second look at the family ring he gave me, it’s hard to believe Padrino Aiden would give me something as nice and fancy as this O’Ruairc ring. It’s made out of silver and had engravings on the inside with Ogham letters.

Runes to be exact.

Also known as written spells. Spells that are activated if you push your magic into it.

If I wanted to, I could find what they mean…but with everything all mixed up in different boxes that my parents shipped to London to our new “home”, it’s not worth looking for it right now.

I miss home.

I miss the grass outside our house. The nosy neighbors. Even hearing the nomaj high school marching band practicing on Saturday mornings despite being a few blocks away.

I miss it all.

I didn’t appreciate living in Sewanhaka as much as I should have. I was too busy moaning leaving Jackson Heights considering how rough it was to adjust to living in Sewanhaka. It feels like a town stuck in the 19 -‘Americana’ - 50’s somehow.

Right…I should mention this journal: this is my second time moving. The first was when I was seven.

And now I’m fourteen.

I guess there’s something to be said about the number seven screwing things up for me.

But I guess going back to my main point of all of this…I miss home.

I know I shouldn’t play it on repeat, but Boulevard of Broken Dream really does feel like feel like the soundtrack of my life. I’ve never really had a steady group of friends and once I did, once I had my circle that stayed…it’s gone.

It’s all back home.

Just like my wand.

(And between you and me journal…I might have “accidentally” left it at home on purpose…Can’t send me to some magic school in the middle of nowhere, Scotland without a wand, right? >=] )

Hopefully I can convince Mami y Papi to let me stay local >.<

There are good schools here in London…right?

…

[Journal entry 1, evening]

They woke me up from a nap. I feel dead. Like a zombie.

I hate zombies.

Or feeling like one.

But it’s rather important that I talk about this right now; apparently my new magical guardian had dropped by our new home to get me ‘sorted’ right away.

And the worst part?

I actually like the old geezer.

Eleazar Fig.

He looks like a grandpa, gives vibes as if Doc Brown and Mr. Rogers were in one person.

Unfortunately, leaving my wand at home’ wasn’t the best plan. Fig lent me his late wife’s wand and now I’ll feel guilty if I don’t practice with him in the summer. Stupid old man and his need to help me by guilting me into using his late wife wand…but Fig isn’t the worst.

He’s actually a decent old man. A fun lecturing grandpa so to speak.

He wants to see where I stand against Hogwarts students as far as magical abilities goes. I shouldn’t have mentioned to him I always struggled with magic due to how weak mine was compared to everyone else. Now all he wants to do is help me improve it. It’s doesn’t help that apparently he’s the professor for magical theory, so improving my magical usage is actually up his alley.

Even worse.

He makes it seem like Hogwarts is a fun place to be as I had my first lesson earlier this evening.

I like to hope not so.

….