KEEP OUT!!!

[Edward Colin Griffith]

18 November 2008

It's been awhile since I've written in this journal, and now it just feels strange. I don't even remember when I started... two, three years ago, maybe? I never thought I'd have the time to write in something like this, but hey, lookie here, I'm already halfway through the pages. Fuck, if anyone ever finds this book... GABBY xoxo GOSSIP would have a field day if she read any of my previous entries. In any case, I'll be sure to keep this journal safe. Maybe I'll burn it when I graduate, it's not like I'm particularly fond of it. And besides, I don't want people finding out I actually write and stuff. They probably doubt that I even own a book or something. Well, I do, it's just that it's not a really good idea to have a book tucked under your arm when you're out partying. But yes, I do like to read. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is a good book, no?

I never knew my paternal grandfather well. Back in London, I only saw him during the New Year, Christmas and the annual family banquet. And even then he was always too busy chatting away with his corporate buddies, either that or he just didn't want to see me. When my father called me a few days ago, informing me of his passing, I admit I didn't feel an inch of sadness within me. Now you must really think that I'm a jerk. But to tell you the truth, I never really loved the old man, and I doubt he shared any affection for me at all. As a kid, I already knew he was a selfish man, I could see it by the way he carried himself. I suppose you could say I can read people well. All he cared about was status, power and money, and the only reason he paid any attention to me, his grandson was because I would be the heir to the Griffith empire after my father stepped down. And what about my father's sister, my aunt? My grandfather wouldn't even think of leaving his fortune to a girl. What a sexist pig.

I guess you can say I'm a disappointment to the Griffith family. Not that I'm proud of that fact, but I just hate that they're counting on me for so many things, things that I've been running away from since I was a kid. They expect me to be a good kid, go to business school and take over the Griffith family's company when my father retires eventually. But fuck them. How can they expect so much of me when they give me nothing in return. Sure, okay, they gave me a brand new car on my birthday, they put money in my bank account every month, but they don't understand... I don't they ever will... that money and property aren't the things I really want.

I wonder if they remember the last time they gave me a hug and a kiss, and said the simple but meaningful words 'I love you'. Everytime I fly back home for the holidays, I can't help but notice the photos on the mantlepiece above the fireplace. They are of my parents and me, of a time long ago, the first few weeks after my birth. I find it funny really, because the only time my parents ever bothered to spend time with me, I can't even remember, I was too young to even know. They've changed. I can tell from the photos. Their smiles... heh, do they even smile anymore? All they do is frown, mostly at me. Because when they see me, they see Eddie Griffith, the troublemaker. Who is this boy? Where is our son? They ask, not out loud of course, but I see it in their eyes. They don't see it's all for show, that they are the audience whom I am performing for. But after awhile, the show isn't a show anymore, it has become a habit for me. And you know what they say about habits, they are hard to break.

Things are not much different in school. Everyone seems to see me the same way my parents do, although I can't really blame anyone. Now I think about it, they see the person I want them to see. Of course, I can choose to show them my real self now, but they'll just think it's a fake, because they've become so used to the person I am now. I must admit being labelled a playboy isn't such a bad thing, it has its perks, you know. At least I never have to worry about being alone at night, my bed will always be warm, and I will always have the scent of sweet perfume in my nostrils as I drift into sleep. Sometimes I do feel regret when I don't remember the girl's name, but I've yet to find a memorable girl that excites me, that sparks my interest. Until I find her, I suppose I'll have to continue living like this.

Oh yes, hold on a minute, there's a girl. Krissie. I can't say I'm in love with her, love is a big word after all... lust perhaps. Of course everyone knows I only want her because I can't have her, and I admit it's true. I'll just get bored with her, just like all the other girls. It's a pity really, because Krissie is a beautiful girl. I suppose she's just not the one for me. I'll never admit it to him, but I really envy old Jacky boy. He's lucky to have someone like Sevvi by his side. Sevvi's a sweet kid, she's really like a sister to me. Oh, I'm not worried about him breaking her heart. Jack, like me, may be known for his ways with the ladies, but he's just a softie really.

Speaking of Krissie and Sevvi... I wonder what I should wear for the party? Something easy, of course, I'm too lazy to go costume hunting. Something along the lines of... say... what about Hugh Hefner? I could pull that off, certainly. Well, now that's taken cared off, I think I shall head to the club for a nice and chilled drink. Ah yes, I'm in the mood for tequila tonight.

Eddie G.