Dear, dear diary, I wanna tell my secrets
Cuz you're the only one I know who'll keep them
I learned to guard my heart long ago.
I played coy, hard-to-get. I was just Bebe, another South Park girl. Wendy was my friend .. for a while. Until I reached adolesence. Then it seemed she only tolerated me. I started attracting attention and for a while I liked it.
Up until now.
I hated them looking at me. Boys and girls, giving long stares at a body they could love. A mind? Probably not. I could love if I wanted, but then again it would be hard. Too hard to let someone hold me.
I've been a bad, bad girl for so long
I don't know how to change what went wrong
Daddy's little girl when he went away
What did it teach me? That love leaves
My dad left when I was twelve.
The woman he left with, Sandra Carmichael, was evil. She was like the Anne Boleyn I had been taught about; Henry the Eighth's second wife, a temptress and a greed for the English crown. Well, in this case Sandra wanted the crown of my father's mind and body. She tempted him.
It served the damn bastard right when he got shot as he ran to Chicago with Sandra.
Dear, dear diary, I wnna tell my secrets
Cuz you're the only one I know who'll keep them
I want to understand, sometimes, why my mother is the way she is. I know she's a lot smarter than she lets on, but she plays stupid so that she can be the South Park housewife dull with boredom and life. Like the Desperate Housewives show or something like that.
She sickens me sometimes.
She let my father delibirately cheat on her. She look so fragile when she realized he had left. Just a note - I'm leaving, I needed to be free - and just like that. She said to me as I came downstairs, my nightgown blowing against the night breeze that was in the house. She had opened the windows; something she only did when she was sad. I looked at her, and she spoke. Her voice was so low, so low.
"Don't ever let a man treat you like you're his bitch, Bebe. You must conquer him, keep him in his place. Don't let him tread over you."
I didn't take her advice for a long while. About till now, and I'm nearly seventeen.
I still haven't learned.
I've been a bad, bad girl
A bad, bad girl