Monday
Driving. Forever driving in this car. Who wants to spend a week on holidays with a bratty brother and two nagging parents?! We've spent the entire day on the road, because those two adults couldn't decide where we'd go to have lunch, to take a rest, to go to the toilet. For all we know we're probably going around in circles. And every hour, right on the hour, my brother screams, "Are we there yet!?"
How obvious can it be when we are still in the car, watching monotonous scenery go by?! If I fell asleep, I wouldn't know we'd gotten anywhere yet, since the same brown fields with the same herds of horses, cows, sheep are always there when I wake up. One wonders if there is any point to this at all.

Tuesday
Well, we finally got there. Though I'm not quite sure where 'there' is. Dad just stopped the car by the side of the road and exclaimed, "Well kids, here we are!"
It's not that bad a place, actually. Maybe this holiday will be different. I never knew that my dad's brother's friend's uncle owned a summer house at the beach. I didn't know dad had friends that were that generous.
The view is quite nice. Spent the morning unpacking after we'd arrived the night before. Spent all day at the beach, swimming, looking for shells, checking out the guys and the girls. They're all so tanned. One of them invited me to a party later in the evening. Surprisingly, mum said I could go. Strange, that she'll trust absolute strangers but not my own friends.

Wednesday
Last night was mad fun. The people here sure know how to throw a party. Music, dancing, good food, good alcohol. And a huge bonfire to keep away the mosquitoes. People everywhere.
After the bonfire died down, I stayed on the beach, just walking along the shore and talking to new-found friends. They're different, here. No talk of getting drunk and waking up with unknown strangers on their laps or in their beds.
Didn't even end up going home, but mum didn't seem to care that I didn't get back till noon. She was still asleep.
We spent all night on the beach, and watched the sunrise. To my surprise, there was no trace of the party last night either.

Thursday
My family are not the same as when they're at home. I haven't been yelled at once. My brother hasn't acted liked a total jerk. No one gives a jot about normal life, work, study.
Spent the day at the beachhouse, getting to know this new side of my family a little better. We all put aside what we didn't like about each other, and actually had quite a good time. Lunch made together tastes so much better. Who ever would have guessed that we could actually co-operate?

Friday
It feels like I'm a kid again. Spent today with my friends and my brother, climbing over the rocks on the cliff that overlooked the water. Mad fun. There was this cave, but we didn't go in. Someone said that it led back to the place where worries went. There was a road through it. I remember having passed through that cave on the way here. That would explain why my family are so different. I don't want to leave this place.

Saturday
The week is coming to a close. Something is up. I can feel it, looming like the storm clouds on the horizon. But I don't fear it.
-Later-
I looked out at the beach. There were people dancing in the pelting rain, backlit by lightning, feet stamping to the rhythm of thunder. They called to me. I packed my bag of meagre belongings - a spare set of clothes, my journal, some food - and ran outside. No one stopped me.
I danced with them late into the evening. When I checked back to the beachhouse, the family had already left. The place was empty.
I went back to the cave I saw yesterday. The road, being a long, straight stretch, showed recent tyre marks. Familiar marks - my family's car tyres. I didn't care. I would not pass through that cave.
I went back and lost myself in the dance, in the thunder and the rain that trickled over my bare back. The lightning that seared me through and through, changing, cleansing, purifying the other world from me.
Here is where I belong; the now, and the eternity. This place... is not the real world.

Full moon, summer solstice
I haven't picked up this journal for over a year. I cannot even remember the face of my mother, father, brother. As it should be. They did not belong here. This journal, its previous pages, they do not belong here either. I should burn this, but it would serve no purpose. The past is for me to learn from, and the future is not for the past to repeat itself.
Here is where I belong. Now is where my life is.
And these words are the last I shall ever write in this journal.