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100 PAGE COMPOSITION BOOK
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This Journal Belongs To: Annabelle Feather
Number: 856-555-4545
Return To: 21, 36th Street, Floor 6, Apartment 8, Manehattan, New York.
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December 1st:
Hello. I don't exactly know who I am talking to, or why, but I am just going to confess to something now. I don't want to jib-jab for 10 paragraphs trying to get this out. I am Annabelle, and I wear diapers. What? Didn't expect that? Well join the club, neither do most ponies I meet. Why? Well, what do you think? I like it? No, no way. It is because whoever is up there, looking down at me, blessed me with a disability. A horrible one too. I am incontinent. Guess what that means? I have no control over my bladder or bowels. So that is why I am stuck in this thing. I would rather have ADHD, or be bipolar, but instead I have to walk around with my bathroom strapped to me. So, I told you that. You can stop reading now, and laugh. I get it a lot actually. It is fine, but we are moving on.
Second thing I want to tell you, is that I don't want to write this. My doctor told me that if I write out my feelings in this composition book, I would feel a lot better about myself. That, and the doctor could see what my day to day life is, and how to fix it. It all started yesterday, when she handed me this book, with the stupid marble print on it. I found another use for this thing, other then to write out my "Feelings". I am going to use it to promote anger, and to whine a lot. It is a good idea, since I don't have a single pony to complain to, other than doc.
I guess this is my first journal entry. I am really just finding ways to fill it up. My goal is to fill more then a page a day, and it is also what the doctor ordered. As I said before, my name is Annabelle, my full name is Annabelle L. Feather. I would prefer if I was just called Annabelle doc, I hate it when you use my full name. I am 22 years old, live in a Manehatten apartment alone, and I am a pegasus. As I look down at myself, I guess you could say I am pretty. The mirror beside me, in this room I sit writing in, I see myself. Short little me, a brunette, with a blonde coat. Or maybe it's yellow? Anyway, of coarse you can't see most of my coat, because it is covered by a ugly dress I always wear. Last, but definitely not least, is the great diaper, as it is failing to hide behind my clothes. There you have it folks! Annabelle the pegasus. As for personality, I am often told I am extremely friendly, and sometimes shy. I never get angry at others, other than in this book, and my own thoughts. I guess after all these years of being bullied for my condition, you could say I know how to deal with everyday crap. I am able to ignore all the ignorant ponies, and don't get upset that easily.
This is probably the most feelings I ever put into a writing piece. My occupation is that I write, my covered cutie mark is a pen, and pencil. Now, don't start thinking that this journal is going to be something I actually put all my heart in. This isn't something that is going to be published, or be looked at other then by you. I write sci-fi anyway, not really this kinda stuff. You said not to think of you as the audience, but that is what is going to happen anyway.
Let us see here. I am supposed to write out what my day was like? Well, if you say so. Today was a Tuesday, yesterday I saw you, doc. I woke up, changed out of a used undergarment, and did the daily stuff. I ate a egg sandwich, and listened to the news on the radio. By then it was already, like, 2. I usually sleep in late, until 12. I stay up late and read books, or work on my writing peices late at night. So everyday, I like to change things up. When the clock strikes 2, maybe I will go out and shop, or maybe bake a pie. I don't prefer going out, I wear the dress, but it honestly doesn't cover up this fluffy thing. The only thing that it does is hide what is going on in it. I still get a few glares, but other then that, people mind their business. When it is around 6, I go to my favorite diner, where probably my only friends are. All the waitresses know me, and there are some others loners, like myself, that hang about. I eat, go home, write, change, and then sleep. That is my day. Happy now? I definitely feel the change in me right now *Sarcasm*
I think this is enough for today, not really actually, but I want to go to bed. I'm a little damp, so I guess I will change. You know everything already, why do I have to explain it again? It is late, and I want to go to bed. The heat in the building is off, so I am freezing. I guess that is the advantage of this dress, and diaper thing right? I honestly don't think this will help my problem, I guess I will just use this for what I said. Whining, complaining, and possibly something to do when I'm bored. So, good night folks, or doc.
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Note:
You really should not think of me as your audience, or it won't work. I suggest you lighten up a bit too, or this project will just be another source of stress. Act like a totally, unknowing pony is reading this, and just describe what your day was like, like you did. Just, don't have a attitude.
Signed:
Doctor. Lee
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December 2nd:
Don't have a attitude? I feel like you're a teacher, I think the way this will work is by letting me adjust. I have to admit that yesterday I was being irrational. I just have a question though. Do I have to see you everyday? It is a long walk to the office for you to read this junk. Can't we do this every few days? Or maybe you can come here? Honestly, I have no idea how long we are going to do this, but you know I don't like going out into public with this thing on. Alright so you said, totally unknowing pony. Got it. Lets just say that this "Unknowing pony" read the above. I guess they want to know how this happened to me? Maybe who my family is? Well first I better explain my attitude from yesterday. I guess I was just in a bad mood, I ran out of coffee, and was really hungry. Didn't get much for dinner that night too. Anyhow, let me continue, with my amazing story *More sarcasm*.
It all started when I was really little. Back when I couldn't do anything without my parents help. When I was the cutest newborn around, and actually got some attention for once. In the near future, I would become the middle child, but that is a story for another time. I was born premature, and was very sickly. My folks wondered if I would even live. Thanks to a couple of miracles, I lived, and grew up healthy. I had heart problems, along with a refusal to eat, and they stuck around until I was a toddler. When I was about 3, it all started to happen. How I got stuck in these things. The things that would get me bullied in school, and anti-social as a adult.
At three, you usually are being trained, or already are trained in that manner. When I was sat down, and told to go, I just couldn't. They would pick my little flank up, put me back in trainers, and then I would go. This went on, until I eventually sat on toilet for hours, until I went without control. My dad also yelled at me a lot, took things away, and even beat me. Yeah, dad was harsh, especially since he only cared about my amazing brother in college, and adorable, newborn twin sisters. I was just the forgotten middle child. Anyway, it got to the point where they finally wondered if something was wrong. I stayed in diapers until 5, and they thought maybe I was mental or something, being pretty immature too. They confirmed that I was incontinent in the doctors office. I had things poked where I don't like to be poked, I was pressed in places I really didn't like to be pressed, and after a lot of discomfort, they found it out and explained it. I was told that in the woom, the nerves needed for such activities weren't developed correctly. The only way to fix it was to get a extremely expensive surgery that would give me a very small amount of control, or wear diapers for the rest of my life. So here I am!
Whats next? Oh yeah, my day. It was the usual, other then I had to go to the doc at 2. It took awhile to get there, and I had to wait longer until she was done with somebody else. Finally it was my turn, she read, and I left at 3:30. I headed to church, and prayed. Then I went to the diner early, around 5:30. A couple of friends were there.
So unknown mysterious pony (that is secretly the doctor *gasp*), I guess you want to know about the doctor! Oh, well she is a swell mare. Doctor Lee wears a white coat, glasses, and is probably a little older then me. She is a single mother, expecting a child in a month. How ironic, she is going to have two babies now. Anyhow, she has a blonde mane, and a coat color that is darker then mine. She tells me about herself a lot, like how her husband left her, and sometimes I feel like I'm her favorite patient. I am unique, and I don't blame her, I am pretty awesome (Kidding, my ego isn't that high).
Well, I'm bored. I think I'm done tonight. I have no idea if my attitude was better, but this was better then yesterdays. I guess this won't be that bad, it is something to do late at night. I usually just sit around, writing, or reading, while I soil myself. I need to go out tonight and buy more diapers actually, I'm running out. That is another question I am sure you have. How is it actually buying the things? Well, since I walk into the store, where it is already obvious what I'm wearing, they don't care. I guess ponies understand that I have a problem, and unless the cashier is a jerk, they won't say anything either. So g'night doc. See you in the morning... I guess.
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Note:
You aren't really meeting your required amount of words. I recommend going into detail on more things. I really want to hear about your friends at the diner. Do they accept you? Or do they ignore you? You mentioned they were loners, and I am happy to hear that you have found some ponies you like. Last, I do want to see your journal everyday, I will come by your house if you don't want to come. Just remember, I am the pregnant one here. It is not very fun for me to walk far either. Tell you what, we will switch every other day.
Signed:
Doctor Lee
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December 3rd:
More words, more detail, and you told me in the office that you wanted me to talk more about my other problems. I guess the unknown reader wants to know why I am here in the first place. Well, it isn't just because of my diaper problems, it is also because I always have been anti-social, always was depressed, and not anywhere close to actually having a life. I got a therapist, Doc, to help me deal with all these problems. I honestly have had financial issues too. I write pieces on the internet and make a decent amount of money, but I am mostly running off my brothers money. The jerk lent me some money so I wouldn't starve. Tons of sibling hatred for him, I was always compared to him. So the doc helps me with all these problems I have, I am one troublesome mare aren't I?
My family was always a problem. When I went to school, and was bullied by all the mean city kids, they were never around to help. When I needed to learn to fly, my pegasus mother didn't care, making me learn by myself. Yeah, she gave me a helmet and wished me luck, awesome, right? There was times they ignored my grades, and didn't care about what my special talent was. It sucked, and set me up for this life. This was back when I didn't wear a dress either, people could just see when I wet myself. A big yellow stain, and I didn't notice until I sat in my own filth, or a kid pointed it out. I could go randomly, even in middle of a conversation. I got all sorts of insults, and they all went unnoticed, even by the teacher. Some of them included calling me a baby, saying I smell, not wanting to be in groups with me, shooting spit balls, calling me diaper girl, staying away from me, and last but not least, tripping me every time I left. Mommy and daddy never let anyone hurt their little angels, the problem was I wasn't a angel. If anything like that happened to my siblings, it would be justified instantly.
Alright, so the friends at the diner. Well, first of all, the diner reminds me a lot of myself. It is small, and located on a small street. Some of its lights are out, and it is beaten up, but surprisingly, a new building on the street. It is forgotten, and down sometimes, like me. The ponies there are also a lot like me. The waitresses are all sweet, and all have children at home. 3 of the 6 of them are single, and have this job to support their young ones. So they feel pain, like I do. One older mare, always comes and dressed up in the nicest of her clothes, and finest jewlery. She waits, and orders a drink while she stares into the walls of the dimly lit place. Some say, that she is waiting for a long lost love, that she lost years ago. A stallion, that was my age, has a similar cutie mark, and is always typing on a typewriter in the back. He was there everyday, working, and crumbling up papers. His story was that he was constantly trying to write the perfect novel, but like me, he didn't have much support. The stallion was a earth pony, and was suspicious. Sometimes our eyes met. I wouldn't call him a friend, but we all have the same feelings. I talk to him sometimes, and he isn't disgusted by me, at all. Another weird thing is that he gets uptight about me looking at his work.
So yeah, that isn't it, I have plenty in the diner. Those two were always there, I am not sure if I want to get into the others. We are almost like a club though, they are the family I never had... Or ever talked to. I usually order pasta, which is always delicious. Just because it was beaten, didn't mean it couldn't produce good food still. A lot like me, so many ponies judged from the exterior. The only problem with the pasta, is that everything I eat, has to be regulated. I know it is gross, but if I eat too much... I don't need to go into detail.
Today was a little different. It has been that way since I have been talking to you in the afternoon doc. I woke up early, and listened to the news awhile longer. I heard all about Princess Celestia and Twilight Sparkle. I got changed out of a diaper that was wetter then usual, then put on a new dress and got ready to see you. But guess what! When I came to the door, I opened it and you were there! I totally forgot about our little deal, and I guess it is alright if we switch off everyday. I do feel bad for making you walk all the way here in your condition. Sometimes I wonder if you actually like me, or if I am just another client. You seem to do things for me, which is nice. But again, if you need me to come to you more often, it is alright. I also hope you are covered for when you go into labor. Who is going to help you when you're home alone?
I decided that this is okay. I mean, I felt a little better today. I don't think I wrote much more. Maybe I will get even more into detail. Having someone... or something to tell everything to, is better than nobody right? Your little notes help, just tell me what you want more of, it sets a line for what I'm writing. It looks like I am out of stuff to say, I guess tomorrow I will talk about more of my "Friends". I am pretty tired, it was a long day, and I want to get changed. So I guess I will see you later doc, have a nice night, and I will see you in the morning. Good luck with your son.
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Note:
Better... You still need more detail. You are a writer! I don't mind you telling me about your "accidents", they let me have a better idea about what you are going through. If I know what is happening, I can help you. Talk about what you hear on the news, how you felt that morning, or maybe any problems you encountered. It will get you to talk more. I have to say that I would like to hear more about your friends. Did you ever think that the stallion in the corner is writing about you? Or have you thought about giving the older mare company? I like that you compare yourself to the diner and it's people.
Also, thank you for concern about me. We are doing just fine, the baby is totally healthy, and happy. He may be born around the holidays. I have got that covered, I am staying at my sisters for the time being. I am not enjoying it there, I am very uncomfortable sleeping on the couch. Lets just get you in order first, though. I do enjoy being your doctor, and trust me, I am much more then just your doctor. I can be your friend, and I can see you more often then just in the office. Keep writing... and enjoy the rest of your weekend.
Signed:
Doctor Lee