Peter "so fucking done" Pettigrew

The states are starting to sound really appealing. Anyone know what Hawaii's like this time of year?

I am not going to write that fucking list out for a third time in one week. I refuse to. I'll update it with the attacks next time something happens, but I'm not going to write it out again. I don't want to have to stare at it one right after another.

I'm tired. Why am I tired when nothing has even happened to me or my family? I wish there was something that I could do for Marlene, but I'm not a miracle worker. And no one can bring someone back from the dead. And that's about the only thing that will help her right about now. I hate feeling useless.

I need to talk to Mum. She's got to be worried with everything that's going on. I know Dad tries not to tell her things, but she isn't an idiot. She'll know.

I think I'm going to go to my parents' for a few days.

Is it all right if I come over? The flat is so empty. I should get a pet. Or maybe I should just give it all up and move in with you lot like you've been prodding. I don't think I want to be alone right now.

Thank god for small miracles. I got an owl from Crook. Seems like things are piling up at the office, and he said, in not so many words, that I obviously did more than he realized and that he wanted me back in first thing tomorrow morning. So! Thankfully, I'm not going to become a homeless bum.

Um. I'm not sure whether I've been fired or suspended or if he's just really, really pissed off and will floo tomorrow when I don't show up even more pissed. Crook spotted my journal on my desk among the paperwork and accused me of slacking off. Told me to get my things together and leave if I was just going to waste his valuable time. It's never been a problem before. I've always had it open at work. The odd comment between files doesn't slow me down any. It was those fucking So. I don't know. You might be seeing a lot more of me from now on.

Sorry. Boss caught me and started yelling. Wrote the first thing I could manage.

Someone tell me why we're even trying to teach that immature, self-centered, whiny little bitch.

When did my pushoverness get so bad that I'd leave the house in the middle of the night to fill out paperwork for someone I don't even like?