Hmmm... I'm back with my horrible work once again ^^... I know you say it's not horrible, but.... I don't know, I'm just paranoid I suppose. Well, there's not much more here, but it will be finished soon. If you feel the need to flame me, my address has been changed to CLecter2005@aol.com. Yeah, anyway, now READ! and I'm going to attempt to use HTML, so if it comes out weird, forvive me :)
Chapter 3 - The Diary of Mischa Lecter
iJuly 18, 1977
The past torments me.
I have the perfect life, have you realized that? I do.
I married my first love, who I still am in love with madly, and I have a beautiful daughter with him.
Satine's five now. She doesn't look like either of us, really, but she looks so familiar. Her eyes have such an original color, tone, and depth to them. It's indescribable. But I know I've seen it before, if I could only remember where.
People say I'm a very intelligent person, but reading back on my journal, it never reflects that. I live my life in a lie, this is the only place I can be completely honest with myself. Mother found this and read this once. She smacked me so hard it knocked the wind out of me. And she told me I couldn't go to America to become a psychiatric. So I never did. I married someone I never loved, never could love, the main reason being because I was in love with someone else.
And now I've married that man. The one I was in love with all along. I have the most gorgeous daughter anyone could wish for, and she is just like her father. I should have no other wishes, but I do. I don't know exactly what I'm hoping for. Just something, anything, that would make me feel more useful to this Earth, to this hell which we've all adapted to.
Sometimes I feel as if I don't wish to live.
January 28, 1987
The past bothers me. A lot more than one would think.
I should win an Academy Award for my acting. Every moment of my life I'm acting. Watching my time ticking away like a clock which never dies. Tick tock, tick tock. It runs through my mind.
I watch my daughter grow, I watch my husband age. It's a beautiful thing to be able to just sit back and stare at life. But somehow, I just still feel as if something's missing.
I haven't seen him all my life. Why is it that I feel myself missing him so much?
August 17, 1978
It's one of those situations
Where you just don't wanna deal
It's one of those emotions
That you just don't wanna feel
It's where you're always hungry
When it's a never ending meal
Yes, that's how life is
On the journey to something real
Really, that didn't turn out that well.
December 31, 1978
No one accepts anything different. It's as if they're afraid to realize that there really is a world beyond their own.
Satine's beautiful. Her long black curls and dark maroon eyes are like no other I have ever before, lest I look into my own. But her's, her's are even darker, ever deeper. Through them you can see everything. They are like the windows to her soul. Mine, mine are just dull and strange.
Satine's intelligence level is high above normal. She will turn seven in February and she's already in the fourth grade. They are thinking of putting her in the sixth grade next year. I look outside the window and see little children running and laughing. I see them playing together happily. I look back into my own home and I see my daughter sitting in a corner with a pile of books, reading them one after another, her eyes sparkling with every new word or fact she discovers. Sometimes, she'll run up to me ecstatically to tell me what she has learned.
Unfortunately, because of her beauty and intelligence, the other kids make fun of her whenever they get the chance. I try to ignore it, but as I walk down the halls of her school, I hear the whispers of the jealous parents. They whisper about my eyes, about my hair. When they actually have enough sense to remember who's mother I am, they whisper about Satine's looks and her brilliance as well. Nothing ever bothers me, except for once when I heard some mother snicker that Satine was an alien, as in from another planet. It brought back the insults from my own childhood. I turned and insulted her back as she covered her child's ears. Looking back on it, it's quite amusing.
Antonio wants to move. He wants to go to Germany, where his parents decided to move. That's all I need, to live closer to my in-laws. What great fun that will be. I know Satine would love it there, being closer to her Nana and Papa, and learning another language. She'll probably speak it fluently before either of her parents or grandparents do. Antonio says children will be different there, that they won't be as cruel as they are in America, that they'll accept our daughter and that she'll finally have friends. Growing up in Italy, I say kids will be kids.
God, my own husband can't even accept our daughter. He's her father, he's supposed to love her for who she is. I don't understand what's wrong with the world.
I wish I could only fix it and make it right.
Mischa
December 25, 1979
Christmas.
It should be a time of happiness, joy, and giving.
Around my home, it's far from those things.
All that goes on around here is arguing. Satine asked for books for Christmas, all she wanted was books. But Antonio insisted that we should buy her toys so that she may become "normal". I managed to scrape up some money and make it out to the book store to purchase a few for her myself. As she opened the toys, she did nothing but toss them aside. But as she opened the books, she dropped everything and began to read. Antonio was royally angry when he noticed. He took me aside and began to yell about how Satine needs to have fun, how she reads too much, how she's "weird". He's her father, I believe he should accept her for who she is. Is this the reason my parents were always harsh to me? I was too smart for them?! God, help me.
March 21, 1980
Antonio is worried about me. He says I mope around and cry and whine too much. He says I'm too worried about our daughter, and he says I just don't care about anything anymore. He wants me to see a shrink. God, that's what I wanted my profession to be and here he wants me to go and visit one like the scene of seeing someone living my dream would have no effect on me whatsoever.
Satine's in eighth grade now. She may be going to the high school next year, it really depends on how she seems to handle older children. If not, she'll stay in the ninth grade at the same school she goes to now. I don't know what I wish for her anymore.
December 7, 1980
I visited the shrink today.
He diagnosed me with depression.
I don't understand how or why. I don't feel depressed. I just wish I could run away from this all.
The shrink's name was Hannibal Caudal. Hearing that name makes me think back to my brother. I see his face, his smile, his eyes. I think of him every time I look to Satine. She has an exact copy of his eyes. Why do I miss him? I knew him so long ago, yet it's as if he died yesterday. I speak of him often here, in my diary, for I never say a word about him to anyone in my life. If I did, I think they would believe I was crazy, worrying over someone who's most likely dead. Perhaps I am.
By the way, we're leaving to move to Germany next month. We're staying with Antonio's parents until we find a home of our own. Fun...
January 30th, 1981
Germany. We live two blocks over from Antonio's parents. Satine loves them to death, she begs me to take her over there everyday, and on most occasions she gets her way. I'm sorry, but I just cannot stand to be around them. Perhaps it's a woman thing? But no matter what I do, there's criticism. I can't do this, I can't do that. This is wrong, this is right. Blah, blah, blah. And, Good Lord, when they visited the house the other day... well, we just won't get into that.
Satine begins school tomorrow. There is only one English speaking teacher and she's only been speaking German for three weeks now, though she has picked up fast. She'll probably do very well. She'll be in 10th grade at age nine. Antonio doesn't think it very well for her, but what else can I do? She can't stay cooped up in the chambers of her mind, that's what my parents forced upon me, I understand how if feels and it is not fun to deal with.
Doctor's appointment tomorrow. I've been having stomach cramps lately and I'm not quite sure what is wrong. But with German speaking doctors, I don't know exactly how far I'm going to get with them anyway. Even if they did find something wrong, they probably wouldn't know how to express it to me. Oh well, if I died at an early age, that would be alright, too. I'm not quite sure why we are here anyway.
January 31st, 1981
Great day. Perfect day. No better feeling in the world.
I'm pregnant. I'm thirty-nine years old, but I am pregnant. And I swear that there is no better feeling in the world. /i
Anyway, there you have it for the time being :) now, look at that box.... it does have a purpose u know :)
Chapter 3 - The Diary of Mischa Lecter
iJuly 18, 1977
The past torments me.
I have the perfect life, have you realized that? I do.
I married my first love, who I still am in love with madly, and I have a beautiful daughter with him.
Satine's five now. She doesn't look like either of us, really, but she looks so familiar. Her eyes have such an original color, tone, and depth to them. It's indescribable. But I know I've seen it before, if I could only remember where.
People say I'm a very intelligent person, but reading back on my journal, it never reflects that. I live my life in a lie, this is the only place I can be completely honest with myself. Mother found this and read this once. She smacked me so hard it knocked the wind out of me. And she told me I couldn't go to America to become a psychiatric. So I never did. I married someone I never loved, never could love, the main reason being because I was in love with someone else.
And now I've married that man. The one I was in love with all along. I have the most gorgeous daughter anyone could wish for, and she is just like her father. I should have no other wishes, but I do. I don't know exactly what I'm hoping for. Just something, anything, that would make me feel more useful to this Earth, to this hell which we've all adapted to.
Sometimes I feel as if I don't wish to live.
January 28, 1987
The past bothers me. A lot more than one would think.
I should win an Academy Award for my acting. Every moment of my life I'm acting. Watching my time ticking away like a clock which never dies. Tick tock, tick tock. It runs through my mind.
I watch my daughter grow, I watch my husband age. It's a beautiful thing to be able to just sit back and stare at life. But somehow, I just still feel as if something's missing.
I haven't seen him all my life. Why is it that I feel myself missing him so much?
August 17, 1978
It's one of those situations
Where you just don't wanna deal
It's one of those emotions
That you just don't wanna feel
It's where you're always hungry
When it's a never ending meal
Yes, that's how life is
On the journey to something real
Really, that didn't turn out that well.
December 31, 1978
No one accepts anything different. It's as if they're afraid to realize that there really is a world beyond their own.
Satine's beautiful. Her long black curls and dark maroon eyes are like no other I have ever before, lest I look into my own. But her's, her's are even darker, ever deeper. Through them you can see everything. They are like the windows to her soul. Mine, mine are just dull and strange.
Satine's intelligence level is high above normal. She will turn seven in February and she's already in the fourth grade. They are thinking of putting her in the sixth grade next year. I look outside the window and see little children running and laughing. I see them playing together happily. I look back into my own home and I see my daughter sitting in a corner with a pile of books, reading them one after another, her eyes sparkling with every new word or fact she discovers. Sometimes, she'll run up to me ecstatically to tell me what she has learned.
Unfortunately, because of her beauty and intelligence, the other kids make fun of her whenever they get the chance. I try to ignore it, but as I walk down the halls of her school, I hear the whispers of the jealous parents. They whisper about my eyes, about my hair. When they actually have enough sense to remember who's mother I am, they whisper about Satine's looks and her brilliance as well. Nothing ever bothers me, except for once when I heard some mother snicker that Satine was an alien, as in from another planet. It brought back the insults from my own childhood. I turned and insulted her back as she covered her child's ears. Looking back on it, it's quite amusing.
Antonio wants to move. He wants to go to Germany, where his parents decided to move. That's all I need, to live closer to my in-laws. What great fun that will be. I know Satine would love it there, being closer to her Nana and Papa, and learning another language. She'll probably speak it fluently before either of her parents or grandparents do. Antonio says children will be different there, that they won't be as cruel as they are in America, that they'll accept our daughter and that she'll finally have friends. Growing up in Italy, I say kids will be kids.
God, my own husband can't even accept our daughter. He's her father, he's supposed to love her for who she is. I don't understand what's wrong with the world.
I wish I could only fix it and make it right.
Mischa
December 25, 1979
Christmas.
It should be a time of happiness, joy, and giving.
Around my home, it's far from those things.
All that goes on around here is arguing. Satine asked for books for Christmas, all she wanted was books. But Antonio insisted that we should buy her toys so that she may become "normal". I managed to scrape up some money and make it out to the book store to purchase a few for her myself. As she opened the toys, she did nothing but toss them aside. But as she opened the books, she dropped everything and began to read. Antonio was royally angry when he noticed. He took me aside and began to yell about how Satine needs to have fun, how she reads too much, how she's "weird". He's her father, I believe he should accept her for who she is. Is this the reason my parents were always harsh to me? I was too smart for them?! God, help me.
March 21, 1980
Antonio is worried about me. He says I mope around and cry and whine too much. He says I'm too worried about our daughter, and he says I just don't care about anything anymore. He wants me to see a shrink. God, that's what I wanted my profession to be and here he wants me to go and visit one like the scene of seeing someone living my dream would have no effect on me whatsoever.
Satine's in eighth grade now. She may be going to the high school next year, it really depends on how she seems to handle older children. If not, she'll stay in the ninth grade at the same school she goes to now. I don't know what I wish for her anymore.
December 7, 1980
I visited the shrink today.
He diagnosed me with depression.
I don't understand how or why. I don't feel depressed. I just wish I could run away from this all.
The shrink's name was Hannibal Caudal. Hearing that name makes me think back to my brother. I see his face, his smile, his eyes. I think of him every time I look to Satine. She has an exact copy of his eyes. Why do I miss him? I knew him so long ago, yet it's as if he died yesterday. I speak of him often here, in my diary, for I never say a word about him to anyone in my life. If I did, I think they would believe I was crazy, worrying over someone who's most likely dead. Perhaps I am.
By the way, we're leaving to move to Germany next month. We're staying with Antonio's parents until we find a home of our own. Fun...
January 30th, 1981
Germany. We live two blocks over from Antonio's parents. Satine loves them to death, she begs me to take her over there everyday, and on most occasions she gets her way. I'm sorry, but I just cannot stand to be around them. Perhaps it's a woman thing? But no matter what I do, there's criticism. I can't do this, I can't do that. This is wrong, this is right. Blah, blah, blah. And, Good Lord, when they visited the house the other day... well, we just won't get into that.
Satine begins school tomorrow. There is only one English speaking teacher and she's only been speaking German for three weeks now, though she has picked up fast. She'll probably do very well. She'll be in 10th grade at age nine. Antonio doesn't think it very well for her, but what else can I do? She can't stay cooped up in the chambers of her mind, that's what my parents forced upon me, I understand how if feels and it is not fun to deal with.
Doctor's appointment tomorrow. I've been having stomach cramps lately and I'm not quite sure what is wrong. But with German speaking doctors, I don't know exactly how far I'm going to get with them anyway. Even if they did find something wrong, they probably wouldn't know how to express it to me. Oh well, if I died at an early age, that would be alright, too. I'm not quite sure why we are here anyway.
January 31st, 1981
Great day. Perfect day. No better feeling in the world.
I'm pregnant. I'm thirty-nine years old, but I am pregnant. And I swear that there is no better feeling in the world. /i
Anyway, there you have it for the time being :) now, look at that box.... it does have a purpose u know :)
