Ive been thinking about Mary Jane. Feel sadder than yesterday, which was just shock and excitement to start with. Now Im contemplating all the life she isn't going to live, because she wasn't much more than me when she went ker-splat.

Perhaps the best part of it was over – who wants to be twenty-five and, like, settling down? She'll be awfully glamorous to all her friends, being the dead one.

I don't actually know she went ker-splat. That's how I imagine it, thought – the truck hitting the back end of the cab, where Mary Jane's sitting looking absolutely miserable because, poor beeyatch, she's seeing Florida for the first time. And she's realizing that she's either going to have to get lobotomized or start networking with the lost and lonely. It's unbearable to be surrounded by folks who think all the problems of life can be solved. Solved by cardio-vascular workouts. Solved by smiley-God. Solved just by being American. That truck just put her out of her misery, is the way I see it.

Where's my truck?

Went back through Mary Jane's diaries.

Im sure she found something amazing. She changes completely, as they go along. I think it's to do with her books. There's magic in most of them. I think she was doing magic, practical magic, successful magic. And I think I know why she was doing it: to get away from the horrible normal.

Even though Im in her room, and it's all new to me, I can see how it was death to her. Her mattress stinks of boredom. The carpet reaches out little hands of depression, trying to drag me down.

Nothing happening today. The smell is worse. 

I saw the rabbit! A really big, long rabbit.

It came out of the wall, let me repeat that for those at the back, it came out of the wall, crapped a little, then ran out of my room – I followed it – down the stairs, around the corner, out the cat-flap, into the garden.

I went out into the garden, and the lawn was beaten down where the rabbits tracks went – easy to follow. All the way to the back wall where there is a hole, under the ivy, just too narrow for me to get through. It goes into a brick wall and was very dark at ten o'clock at night. I didn't have a flashlight. I wasn't properly equipped. Next time, I will be, I promise.

The bricks are really weak, pink, crumbly and old. English. I'll wait until my parents are out househunting tomorrow morning, then attack it with the hammer I have just found in the utility room.