Diary
Page Eighteen
I found that old typewriter my dad had bought me when I started high school. A non-weird gesture from him. He found it at a thrift store. He only paid $27 for it.
I started writing on it today. I wrote a sentence, a line from Don Quixote.
“It is your fear, Sancho, that keeps you from seeing or hearing properly.”
I remember reading a excerpt from that book in 10th grade. For some reason, it stuck in my mind. Of course, I’m not going to rip Cervantes off, but it’s a good start for something.
Roxy looked at the line and asked me what it meant. I just told her that living in fear blinds you from seeing the world clearly. She didn’t really understand, but I accepted her little nod and smile. I just hope she’ll remember it when she gets older. I hope she becomes something great, and doesn’t fear discrimination or being placed in a certain genre. Same thing, I guess, right?
I started writing a short story, too. It’s about a little girl, with long black hair in pigtails, pale skin, cutesy little smile, and a lot of energy. I didn’t giver her a name. I guess we’d call her Precious Doe.
She learns what a divorce is. What cheating is. Why her father left, and why her mommy was always sad. It’s the opposite of Roxy’s life. I never want her to know what really is going on between us. I never want her to experience a divorce, know what an extra-marital affair is, or see me cry. Never let them see you cry, as you always use to say.
I entitled the story Drowning Lessons.
Of course, the little girl in my story doesn’t actually swim, but these wave of emotions, and learning experiences can drowned her. It can take over her life, pull her down into the dark, deep depression. It can make her lungs fill with salty water –reality- and crush her. It can kill her. She could die from this.
I made the kid about 7 or 8. A few years older than Roxy; whatever you fancy.
I don’t think I could give her a name. Mainly, because she could be any little girl. Or could be a boy, but girl fits so well. It’s so realistic, life like.
Her parent’s knowledge her; her father loves her, her mother can’t live without her. Her father is an alcoholic, her mother was once right behind him. Her father runs off with his little girlfriend, her mother works double shifts at her job –I didn’t specify.
I hope you read it one day.
I started writing on it today. I wrote a sentence, a line from Don Quixote.
“It is your fear, Sancho, that keeps you from seeing or hearing properly.”
I remember reading a excerpt from that book in 10th grade. For some reason, it stuck in my mind. Of course, I’m not going to rip Cervantes off, but it’s a good start for something.
Roxy looked at the line and asked me what it meant. I just told her that living in fear blinds you from seeing the world clearly. She didn’t really understand, but I accepted her little nod and smile. I just hope she’ll remember it when she gets older. I hope she becomes something great, and doesn’t fear discrimination or being placed in a certain genre. Same thing, I guess, right?
I started writing a short story, too. It’s about a little girl, with long black hair in pigtails, pale skin, cutesy little smile, and a lot of energy. I didn’t giver her a name. I guess we’d call her Precious Doe.
She learns what a divorce is. What cheating is. Why her father left, and why her mommy was always sad. It’s the opposite of Roxy’s life. I never want her to know what really is going on between us. I never want her to experience a divorce, know what an extra-marital affair is, or see me cry. Never let them see you cry, as you always use to say.
I entitled the story Drowning Lessons.
Of course, the little girl in my story doesn’t actually swim, but these wave of emotions, and learning experiences can drowned her. It can take over her life, pull her down into the dark, deep depression. It can make her lungs fill with salty water –reality- and crush her. It can kill her. She could die from this.
I made the kid about 7 or 8. A few years older than Roxy; whatever you fancy.
I don’t think I could give her a name. Mainly, because she could be any little girl. Or could be a boy, but girl fits so well. It’s so realistic, life like.
Her parent’s knowledge her; her father loves her, her mother can’t live without her. Her father is an alcoholic, her mother was once right behind him. Her father runs off with his little girlfriend, her mother works double shifts at her job –I didn’t specify.
I hope you read it one day.
♠ ♠ ♠
I skipped school today because it took me forever to drive back to my town from Seattle, and I was overly exhausted and overly excited and happy, and my ears are still ringing. Last night I got to meet Frank and Ray, and they were the sweetest people ever! I donated to Sing It For Japan, I even wrote it on my arm (not that I donated). My friend Tia and I were got there, at the venue, stupid early, and got to hear them do sound check; it was really cool. Mikey didn't really move, which bummed me out. And then, it was over.I tried meeting Gerard, but he only signed a few stubs and hurried onto the bus. I'm not mad, at least I got to see him up close this time.