Dagbog

Goodbye Ireland Dear Journal, today is the big day, I'm going to America. I knew from the beginning that America was my only hope to escape hunger, poverty, and to get a better life. Yet I feel that I'm abandoning my home but I am also excited for America. It might be normal for a girl to think like that. The potato famine has come to stay, but I am not. Recently, Uncle Ben bought me a special portable pen, that I can use to write in my journal on the trip, but for now, I think I’ll save the ink for when I depart.

Departing 15/6/1860 Dear Journal, It is me again. I've met a wonderful guy at the harbor, I think I am in love. It sounds stupid, but I've never felt like this before. He seemed rather confused, so I gave him a helping hand. At first sight he didn't seem that nice, actually he seemed rude, but that changed quickly. Now I am sitting at the ship gazing tiredly at the sickening seawater, with a smell you could die of. But it's worse down in the horrific steerage, where I am going to spend 3 weeks - the enormous and sardine-packed crowd that annoys the daylights out of me. All of sudden I saw the guy again, he seemed lonely and quite desperate for help. I walked over to him to talk. He was really happy for me showing up, I could see it in his eyes. I hope this conversation will result in a good friendship, for the rest of the trip.