16 May 2011
I’ve never done this before, and I’m not sure where to begin. I’ve never been good at writing to begin with, but now that my parents are coercing me into this as a form of therapy, I might as well try a bit. Besides, they’ve assured me that writing in this journal could be my ticket to being allowed back in Scotland within a few months. I, Blair Hallyard, shall accept this challenge. Anything to get back home.
I hate it here. I hate every single fucking thing about this place. This Aberdeen isn’t my home. This cesspool called Maryland couldn’t be a decent home to anyone. I just arrived here yesterday and I already loathe everything. There is absolutely nothing of interest in this state, and I’m fairly certain that everyone who lives in this particular city knows that—a city, I might add, that effectively “stole” the name of my hometown, which is just inexcusable. All that’s here is dry grass and roads that go on forever and boring, sparse land if you go two feet beyond the main part of the city. At least the house is nice enough; a bit cramped now that it has three people, but I guess I can deal for now. I’m used to living in my townhouse, so this is practically a mansion.
The fact that I haven’t managed to wallap anyone yet has astounded me. Though, I guess it’s still far worse to do anything untoward in this Aberdeen as opposed to my Aberdeen back in Scotland. Like I said, this isn’t my home, and I’ll be dammed if I have to stay here any longer than I need to.