(The) Things I Never Wrote In My Diary
Chapter 1: March 12th, 2007
March 12th, 2007
Came home this morning - in itself an unusual thing - and met my mother. She's always been up early, fixing with her hair curlers and putting on the make-up that will make her look like a movie star during the day. I, on the other hand, look like a wandering shipwreck with my stripy, dark brown hair and watery blue eyes, constantly sans make-up. The drugs have gotten to my looks as well, so I'm really not a pretty sight most of the time. However, as I came home at seven o'clock in the morning, I walk in and am confronted by my mother, half of her hair curlers out and the rest still in her hair, effectively making her look like nutcase. My mother's hair is bright red (it's a wonder I didn't inherit it) and right now her face was indiscernible from it. Shit, I thought, she found out about my going to London, but she didn't say a word about that. Unable to produce words, she held a small bag up to my face. At first I didn't recognize it, but then I realised she'd found my coke. Which in itself was worse than her knowing about London, Brighton and Manchester together. And that would've been bad enough.
"What's this?!" she finally managed to shriek at me.
"Cocaine, I believe," I said as if she'd just found an extra sweater in the washing machine and wanted to know who it belonged to (it happens at a regular basis in our house).
"And why did I find it in your room?!" She was more furious than I thought she could be without getting a heart attack.
"It probably belongs to me." I never thought much when I was wasted.
She concluded by throwing the bag at me, screaming without actually forming any words, and I felt it safest to get the hell out of there. Sometimes you see the value of having toothbrush and other vitals constantly packed in your bag. I'm currently at Marissa's, and I'll probably stay here for a while. Mother doesn't know Ris, so she can't call and hassle me. I turned my mobile off, too. I don't know what business my mother had in my room, especially not as she would've had to search through it good to find the coke. Loose floorboards aren't just cliché - they're darn useful, too.
I'll be back when something happens.
Came home this morning - in itself an unusual thing - and met my mother. She's always been up early, fixing with her hair curlers and putting on the make-up that will make her look like a movie star during the day. I, on the other hand, look like a wandering shipwreck with my stripy, dark brown hair and watery blue eyes, constantly sans make-up. The drugs have gotten to my looks as well, so I'm really not a pretty sight most of the time. However, as I came home at seven o'clock in the morning, I walk in and am confronted by my mother, half of her hair curlers out and the rest still in her hair, effectively making her look like nutcase. My mother's hair is bright red (it's a wonder I didn't inherit it) and right now her face was indiscernible from it. Shit, I thought, she found out about my going to London, but she didn't say a word about that. Unable to produce words, she held a small bag up to my face. At first I didn't recognize it, but then I realised she'd found my coke. Which in itself was worse than her knowing about London, Brighton and Manchester together. And that would've been bad enough.
"What's this?!" she finally managed to shriek at me.
"Cocaine, I believe," I said as if she'd just found an extra sweater in the washing machine and wanted to know who it belonged to (it happens at a regular basis in our house).
"And why did I find it in your room?!" She was more furious than I thought she could be without getting a heart attack.
"It probably belongs to me." I never thought much when I was wasted.
She concluded by throwing the bag at me, screaming without actually forming any words, and I felt it safest to get the hell out of there. Sometimes you see the value of having toothbrush and other vitals constantly packed in your bag. I'm currently at Marissa's, and I'll probably stay here for a while. Mother doesn't know Ris, so she can't call and hassle me. I turned my mobile off, too. I don't know what business my mother had in my room, especially not as she would've had to search through it good to find the coke. Loose floorboards aren't just cliché - they're darn useful, too.
I'll be back when something happens.