Copyright Disclaimer: None of the material from the Princess Diaries series belongs to me but to Meg Cabot.

Sunday, September 30, the Loft, 4 pm

So. It's been a couple of days since I've written in you, which is pretty weird, considering I keep you right beside me at all times in case anything traumatic happens (and because it's me, it's a pretty regular occurrence). It's just been really weird. Okay, I know weird isn't the most descriptive of adjectives, which explains my depressing grades during English classes, but there isn't any other way to say it.

Remember how I finally had that spark of happiness after weeks of being sad all the time? Yeah. It feels like that's exactly what it was- a spark. It's not that I can't see the bright blue sky and the sun anymore...it's just I now see that I'm still in the hole, and yeah, I'm a bit higher up than I was, but I'm not nearly as close as I thought I was to the ground. I know, I'm such a failure I can't even become depressed enough to get medication (and with a Grandmère like mine, I need A LOT of them), yet I cannot remain on the road to recovery for more than a couple of days.

Dr. K says it's perfectly normal to feel this way, since recovery isn't a linear process, but sort of like a horse galloping, there are going to be bumps along the way. He says I need to keep pushing myself to do one thing that scares me every day, because I won't feel better if I don't do anything about my situation. And recently, some things have been empowering. That speech I gave to the Domina Rei, making Genovia a democracy. Despite Grandmère hysterically weeping over being kicked out of the palace every hour and my father glaring down at me with disappointment, I knew it was the right thing to do. Even that kiss with JP...it showed me that I was capable of moving on, even if it was but a tiny step.

However, that was but for a moment. The kiss was far more liberating than the actual act of going out with him. Every date seemed to exhaust me more and more, requiring at least three hours of me napping in my bed for every hour I spent watching a Broadway show with him. I knew it was awful of me. Here was a perfectly normal, handsome guy who loved me, willing to wait years for me to feel better to have the chance to be with me. We had so much in common, being both the creative, artistic types.

It was just awfully tiring having to run away from the press every single time I put a foot out the door. I still was dazed with the blinding white lights from the camera an hour ago. My ankle was bruised where I tripped in my high heeled Louis Vuitton's when I ran down the corner in a bid to escape the Us Weekly reporter who was enthusiastically asking, "Princess! Who would you say is better in bed? Your former love in Japan or the handsome current John Paul?!" The Sixteen magazine reporter wasn't much more tactful when he shouted, "Care to comment on your improved fashion sense now that you're courting a member of an elite class? Is this an indication of a deeper commitment?" Lars had "accidentally" broke his camera when hustling me away. I still cringed at the memory.

Maybe it was selfish of me to say, but I didn't feel like going out with JP anymore. I know I've been nothing but selfish over the last 16 years of my life. It wasn't just the reporters, either. Every time he took my hand, I remembered another hand, larger and more guy like. Every time I hugged him, I could only smell...dry cleaning fluid. All my friends brushed away these tiny details, but they filled my head constantly. And thinking exhausted me so much I needed another three-hour nap.

I didn't know what to do. I was probably just overreacting as usual. I'd be regressing on my recovery. I don't think I could bear the heartbroken look in his eyes as I broke it off, his pleads on how he could improve, his declarations that he would wait for me. I don't think I have the courage to even do it. However, I don't think I could bear pretending to smile as I ate at some fancy restaurant as JP chartered on about something I barely heard because all I could think of were Saturday nights spent with another guy...one currently in Japan, whose heart I broke.

Everything had happened so fast. Even in the midst of my depression, I still had to give a speech in front of thousands of impeccably groomed business women. I had gained-and lost-best friends in the blink of an eye. I had caused my country to transition to a completely new political system, and a part of me felt very guilty that I could do nothing to help facilitate that change except get an unbelievable number of tabloids published about me each day, which only ruined my dubious credibility. I didn't want to be that princess who was always in the papers for looking pretty on a date.

Maybe breaking up with JP was a decision I was making because I was feeling sad again. It was a decision spurred by unstable emotional state, and thus, likely not a rational one. But I made the decision to date him when I was still depressed, despite that moment of happiness. Maybe I wasn't in the best state when I made that decision either.

Suddenly, tears welled up in my eyes. Usually, I'd panic over these sorts of decisions, my mind racing with a hundred different possibilities. Now, I just felt...sad. Like I was a failure. And would always be one. I still didn't know what to do, but instead of the rising sense of panic and adrenaline that usually accompanied me, I felt very tired. A tired that went deep down to my bones.

The Loft, 2 am

I slept for 10 hours. So much for the three-hour nap. I still have to finish off my homework for tomorrow. Somehow, I can't bring myself to care very much. I still don't know what to do about JP. I think I'll go see if there are any leftovers from Number One Noodle Son in the fridge.

List of Reasons Why I Should Break Up with J.P.

1. I don't like him the same way he likes me. I know he said he'd wait, but I don't want another Kenny incident again. I really tried to like him, but I don't think anything can compare to what I had with Michael. And I don't really want anything else right now.

2. The dry-cleaning fluid smell. Enough said.

3. I am a feminist and believe I can be perfectly happy single. (Ignoring the fact that I can't be perfectly happy ever, because depression much?)

4. Maybe the paparazzi will stop bothering me if I spend all my time indoors.

5. I can focus more on school.

6. It scares me. Dr. K says I should do one thing every day that scares me, which is also why I started dating J.P. Psychology is so confusing.

7. It would give me a lot more nap time.

8. Maybe Lilly will stop hating me. (Lilly will never stop hating me; ignore this reason).

9. He always wants what I want. Okay, this is actually something Mom brought up- whenever he takes me out on dates, he always does whatever happens to be on my mind. I didn't see it as a big deal…but apparently Mom thinks he doesn't seem to have his own mind. But he seemed pretty adamant on dating straight away when I didn't.

10. I can't go anywhere with him without being reminded of Michael, the love of my life.

List of Reasons to Stay with J.P.

1. How am I ever going to get over Michael if I don't accept new love down the corner?

2. Michael is never coming back for me after what I did.

3. J.P. and I are both blond, tall, and creative. Michael and I had nearly nothing in common except a deep and abiding love of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Star Wars.

4. Grandmère loves J.P. If I break up with him, she'd hate me even more.

5. I don't want to break another guy's heart.

Why did I mention Michael so many times on a list focusing on J.P.? I really can do nothing right.

The Loft, 7 am

The limo is going to come to pick me up any minute. I looked in the mirror. I look so pale that I could pass as the female version of Dracula. It doesn't help that my palms are clammy and there are dark circles underneath my bloodshot eyes. I guess that's what happens after sneaking out to the living room to watch the Notebook in the middle of the night and crying your eyes out at the reminder of the passionate love you once had (and lost).

Monday, 1 October, The G and T room, 11 pm

I'm supposed to be working on my Algebra homework. Mr. G, stepfather or not, will totally kill me if I don't hand it in on time. It turns out that using depression as an excuse has a time limit. J.P. is sitting next to me, humming Broadway showtunes under his breath and scribbling ideas for his latest play. "How does a 'A Prince Amongst Men' sound for an award-winning title?" he jokes, blue eyes lighting up.

Lilly, across the classroom, editing video scenes on a computer, shoots a dirty look at this statement. Her eyes slide over to me, resuming that blank, dead quality they have whenever they have the misfortune at glancing at something as trashy as me. She hadn't spoken to me ever since the outburst at the cafeteria, and had been equally silent. It was a relief in some ways, not having to read yet another reason for you to despise yourself more than you already do. In other ways…in masochistic ways, when it was still being updated, I couldn't help but follow every mean comment about me, using it as justification about my worthlessness.

The website had vilified my right to hate myself, to lock myself in my room and just…cry. Because that was all I was good for, after all. I know, it was pretty sick. Another reason I was still in therapy.

Suddenly, something about this idyllic scene- my boyfriend smiling over at me, holding my hand- felt wrong. I just couldn't imagine myself, sitting here, day after day, plastering on a plastic smile on my face. Why was I holding hands with a guy that wasn't Michael? Why was I even bothering? Why did I deserve this faade of normalcy when everything about my life was already so crazy?

"J.P.," I said, then stopped. I took a really long look at his face, his innocent blue eyes staring up at me. His blonde hair, falling over the tips of his ears. How ready he was to answer my every beck and call with an earnest smile. My stomach lurched. I don't know what went through my head when I next said, "We need to talk. I don't think this is a good idea. Us, I mean. You're a really nice guy, and I really like you, but not like this. I'm sorry."

I could feel my face getting redder and redder as seconds ticked by without a response. The room fell to a hush around us, and I realized I may have spoken a little too loudly. I felt the urge to run, but I was stuck there, staring at the tip of his ear.

"Mia," J.P. exhaled heavily. He looked shocked. "What do you mean?"

I shifted my feet uncomfortably. I could feel the leftovers from the fridge rising in my throat. I wondered whether Lily would be able to resist posting me throwing up all over my boyfriend (or ex). I wouldn't blame her. Someone should document freaks of nature.

"I don't think we should be going out anymore," I whispered. It was so silent you could've heard a pin drop.

"Listen," J.P. pleaded. He took my limp hand. "I don't think we should talk about this right now. Why don't I take you out for Pinkberry after school? My treat."

I flushed. I felt dumb. I tried to summon up Grandmère's lessons on rejecting suitors, but all I could think about was how heavy and oily the leftovers I ate were. As time passed with my face getting as red as a tomato, J.P. seemed to have come to the conclusion that I wouldn't be moved. Not right now, at least.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Lily let out a snicker from across the room. "Did you finally figure it out?" she said in a hard voice, landing me in place with a glare that could have frozen over melting lava. I blinked.

What did she mean? How I wasn't destined for any relationship? I shook my head dumbly, not knowing how to react. Her face suddenly contorted in rage and became blotchy. "Typical," she spat. She looked like she was going to say more, but she merely shook her head and forced on a look of blank indifference.

J.P. let out a laugh. Not a very nice one. "I don't blame you, Mia. You're in a tough spot right now. No help from that family." He frowned at Lily, making it clear who that family referred to.

Abruptly, Lily snapped out from her apathy. She turned angrily on J.P. "Oh, please. The amount of things that I could spill about you if I wanted to. You think you're the damn nicest guy in the whole school, dating girls like me then saving princesses. You have the most spotless reputation in New York, don't you, while I'm framed as the jealous ex-girlfriend. You deserved each other." Spit was almost flying from her mouth. She threw a video camera case on the floor. It landed with a dull thud.

At that point, I was out the door. Almost no one noticed me leave during that exchange. I liked that- feeling like a ghost. As I rounded the corridor, I heard J.P. laugh shakily and say, "Don't listen to her, Mia. We'll talk when everything's calmer. Mia?"

As far as I was concerned, that wasn't going to happen.