Dear diary, JUNE 13, 2014
Today I got into an argument with Margaret. I call her mother. Now we’re on the silent treatment phase and I for one know that I’m not letting up so easily. Why did we argue? She told me I was fat and useless because I grumbled at the thought of walking all the way to the store which is a long way. She thinks its okay to call me fat and useless now that I’m healthy. I’m not crying into my pillow anymore, I still have zero friends but I’m reaching out to a few.
It’s not that I’m lazy diary; don’t get your pages in a twist. I’ve walked a longer distance to school when I was younger and I didn’t mind it. I got really pissed off when she compared me to a boy who walks a longer distance to school and lives with his uncle a few houses down the street. She doesn’t know he loves walking to school, he treasures the exercise. Trust me; I’ve seen his ripped abs. It’s actually impressive.
I’m not Einstein but I can be James Cameron in a few years. She doesn’t see that. I can’t be perfect. I’m sorry I don’t look like you. I look like dad. Sorry I don’t have your long hair, mine refused to grow. I’m sorry you can’t buy clothes for me because you’re always complaining about how you don’t have money but you end up buying three new outfits weekly FOR YOURSELF. She just needs a servant, a thing to put her anger on, not a daughter. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Lie at her feet and beg for mercy.
Bitch its 2014!!!!!
She wants to hit me. I don’t mind. That’s all she ever does. All she can do. It hurts but I won’t cry. I won’t apologize for getting angry after being called fat. I weigh 58kg. That’s fat!!! It’s a question diary, not a statement, put a question mark. [That’s fat????]
Finally, I’m sorry you won’t be having shots with me when I become a New York Times bestseller. You won’t take a picture with me when I make Guinness world record with my book breaking Danielle Steel’s record. I’m sorry you won’t be sitting next to me when I win an Academy award for best motion picture and best director. [The thought of an Oscar, I really want to be the first Nigerian to win an Oscar.]
NOTE FROM THE BLOGGER
When I started writing about Meredith, I tried to feel whatever she was feeling. If you think I’ve made mistakes, please feel free to email me at firstname.lastname@example.org or tweet at me @alyzerbeth