Light at the End of the Tunnel
Life Pretty Much Sucks
Dear Diary,
Today is about the same as any other day. Boring. Wretched Mrs. Joseph has been getting on me about every little thing. I can't stand that woman. She needs to go play in traffic. Someone needs to burn down this place. If no one else does soon, I swear I will. And it doesn't help that everyone hates me here. Just because I don't wear pink doesn't mean there's something wrong with me! I'm not gonna change for anyone, so it doesn't even matter. I don't know, Diary, sometimes I feel like you're the only one i can talk to. You're my best friend.
I feel like tacos.
-Avery
Yep, that's me. Avery Grace Pritchard. My life pretty much sucks. I'm a 14 year old prisoner at this piece of crap orphanage. My mom died when I was 2, and my dad couldn't raise me alone. He wanted me to have a good life, and he could do that with where he was in life. So he put me up for adoption. I can't say I've been passed from family to family, because no family ever wanted me. But then again, I probably wouldn't have wanted them either...
"Avery!" I winced. Before I could answer, Mrs. Joseph barged into my room. "Why weren't you at lunch?" Like I said, she's been on me about every little thing.
"I wasn't hungry," I replied calmly.
"If you keep hiding away in your room, no family will ever want you. Not that they do anyway..." Her eyes darted to my diary. "And what is this?" She roughly snatched it from my grasp and flipped through it, stopping on today's entry. "I will not have you writing such things!" She yelped after reading it
.
"Like your face..." I muttered.
"That's it missy," she snapped, "I'm tired of hearing your mouth. This should teach you to respect your elders!" With that, she marched her fat self out of my room and down the stairs, still clutching my diary. I quickly followed.
She has no right to pry into my personal thoughts, let alone steal them!
She turned a corner into the multi-purpose room, as I suddenly realized what she was going to do. I made a lunge for her arm, but she moved surprisingly quickly. With a cold look on her face, I watched in disbelief as she tossed my precious diary into the blazing fire. I dropped to my knees, watching the fire consume all my thoughts and emotions, all my hopes and dreams. Immediately, the tears came to my eyes, and were soon sliding down my face.
"How could you!?" I screamed after her, hoarse with grief. Cupping my face in my hands and sobbing uncontrollably, I dashed back up to my room and fell onto my bed inters. That night, I cried myself to sleep, as I usually do.
Today is about the same as any other day. Boring. Wretched Mrs. Joseph has been getting on me about every little thing. I can't stand that woman. She needs to go play in traffic. Someone needs to burn down this place. If no one else does soon, I swear I will. And it doesn't help that everyone hates me here. Just because I don't wear pink doesn't mean there's something wrong with me! I'm not gonna change for anyone, so it doesn't even matter. I don't know, Diary, sometimes I feel like you're the only one i can talk to. You're my best friend.
I feel like tacos.
-Avery
Yep, that's me. Avery Grace Pritchard. My life pretty much sucks. I'm a 14 year old prisoner at this piece of crap orphanage. My mom died when I was 2, and my dad couldn't raise me alone. He wanted me to have a good life, and he could do that with where he was in life. So he put me up for adoption. I can't say I've been passed from family to family, because no family ever wanted me. But then again, I probably wouldn't have wanted them either...
"Avery!" I winced. Before I could answer, Mrs. Joseph barged into my room. "Why weren't you at lunch?" Like I said, she's been on me about every little thing.
"I wasn't hungry," I replied calmly.
"If you keep hiding away in your room, no family will ever want you. Not that they do anyway..." Her eyes darted to my diary. "And what is this?" She roughly snatched it from my grasp and flipped through it, stopping on today's entry. "I will not have you writing such things!" She yelped after reading it
.
"Like your face..." I muttered.
"That's it missy," she snapped, "I'm tired of hearing your mouth. This should teach you to respect your elders!" With that, she marched her fat self out of my room and down the stairs, still clutching my diary. I quickly followed.
She has no right to pry into my personal thoughts, let alone steal them!
She turned a corner into the multi-purpose room, as I suddenly realized what she was going to do. I made a lunge for her arm, but she moved surprisingly quickly. With a cold look on her face, I watched in disbelief as she tossed my precious diary into the blazing fire. I dropped to my knees, watching the fire consume all my thoughts and emotions, all my hopes and dreams. Immediately, the tears came to my eyes, and were soon sliding down my face.
"How could you!?" I screamed after her, hoarse with grief. Cupping my face in my hands and sobbing uncontrollably, I dashed back up to my room and fell onto my bed inters. That night, I cried myself to sleep, as I usually do.