May 29th, 1987
It's another of those hot days in the south, and school is almost out. It's a lot more difficult being a fourth-grader than most people would imagine. The other kids think I'm weird. Maybe I am. If it's true, then I can't really help it.
My father thinks that I keep a diary, and he calls me weak for it. But this is a journal. All of the most important people in history kept a journal. And someday, I'm going to be one of them. I'm going to be important, and nobody will think I'm weird. I'll be special, not like the other kids in my class. They all want to be vets and policemen and firefighters. Not me, though. I'm going to be special, I just know it.
My parents are fighting again. I don't know what it's about this time. Maybe money, possibly me. They fight about me a lot. My dad says that my mom isn't raising me right. He says I'm not a little kid anymore and that I need to have responsibilities. I do a lot of stuff around the house for mom, like polishing her snow globes. She collects snow globes. I try to count all of them, but it doesn't seem possible, because there are too many. My father says that I'm going to be the man of the house someday, so I need to be prepared. He's already got a job set up for me when I turn sixteen. I'm going to work at his watch-fixing shop. He even changed it to Gray and Son's. But there's nothing special about fixing watches. Still, I don't want to make him mad by saying that I don't want to fix watches for a living.
I'm turning ten in a few days, on June 2. I can't wait. I'm not expecting to get anything, but I just like birthdays.
I just heard the door slam, and my mother is crying. I'm going to go see what's wrong. I'll write some other time. Bye.
Gabriel