I chose to write my story based on two of the main features of the book The Collector by John Fowles The writing style (the diary-type entries) and the idea of isolation and separation from society.

Authors Avatar

Eilish Scanlan


Dear Reader,

        (Morning) I’ve become aware that I don’t remember much of the outside world. The colour of the grass is called green but I cant put the colour to the name. The feeling of a soft breeze on my face, forgotten. The sound of the children in a playground, the smell of the sweetest flowers, forgotten. What a waste. My own doing I suppose. I only had myself to blame. I’m surprised I could still remember my own name. I should be on the brink of madness. I want to be. But nothing ever goes my way does it. I’ve been waiting out the days, ticking them off, hoping someone will finally understand me but they never will. Nobody misses me and no one wants me. I have no friends, and the only family I have left are the ones that think I’m mental and everyone else is too preoccupied with their own lives to notice I’m still alive. It’s understandable though. I wouldn’t miss me. That’s why I started this. I realised I’m nothing in this universe, just one small flea on the back of an elephant. Unimportant. I don’t have a destiny, never found true love, haven’t had a steady job in years and I know now that I’m the reason the word ‘failure’ is in existence.

There was a time where I wasn’t scared of anything, when I had a bunch of friends who hung on my every word but then there was the time I could be surrounded by a sea of people and still feel all alone. The sea made me feel tiny, almost like I was invisible because no one could share my view of the world. They were locked away, safe inside my head until the right person could pick them out one by one, but that never happened.

Join now!

        (Afternoon) These four walls are proving to be my only source of comfort. Away from the rest of the world. I’m safe. Just me, a pen, some paper and a bed. Not much I grant you but enough to know that ‘necessities’ aren’t needed. I don’t want what they keep offering me. I don’t want your books, I say. But you have to do something! They say.

Sometimes this place is like my own personal hell hole, but other, It’s my idea of heaven. They try and make me do what they want. Lets go for a walk, they say. I ...

This is a preview of the whole essay