2.27.04
No one can ever read you. I, myself, will not even let you be seen. If
anyone comes upon these sacred pages, may I be cursed- my life would
come down on top of me, crumbling at the edges until finally the whole
world caves in on me. What greater horror is greater than that?
You, my dear friend, may call me Alice. Or Estella- but I thought that
was a too much elaborate name for my poor, simple breath that they
call life. I wouldn't dare write my real name in fear that after I die
someone might scan their beady eyes over these painfully written
words. Maybe I shall have you burned before I pass away. Do not be
offended, I only wish that someone not see your holy pages. Anyways, I
shall just remain as Alice.
Ever since I was a young child, I have yearned to have someone to tell
all my secrets to- to share my thoughts and dreams. I have always been
a misfit. Never have I had any friends. Even my imaginary ones turned
to be fraud- they just somehow couldn't express themselves to me, nor
I to them. And now my only friend I ever had has run away. No one
knows where, and the police around her house across the street remind
me day after day of the only friend I ever had high-tailing it. I'm so
tired of Police interviews... I don't know anything about it! Can't they
understand? The last thing she said to me was, "No one's there. They
don't understand me. But, as it is said, where there's true gold-
there you can find the truth!" She's always deep like that, or at
least... she was. She's the one who brought out the poet hidden deep
within my struggling soul. Now that she's gone, this little town of
Boston just isn't the same... It's been a full three weeks since she
left- I've been counting.
Well, she's just one of the reasons why I got you. There are many
more, but most of them are lost in the depths of my soul. There's her,
loneliness, June 15th, Seth.. Oh yeah, I haven't told you about Seth
yet. Seth, supposedly, is my father. My stepfather actually, but I
wouldn't even think of calling him dad. He's anything but that to me.
I mean, how can I get close to someone who ran off both my parents?
Okay, so here's how this messed up story goes: My mom and dad were
both in love and they had me. Then they got married- well, if you can
call it that. It was more of a dinky, covered "ceremony" where mom
wore a tan sundress. Well, we lived happily in a run-down apartment
until mom got herself a job in a shop downtown. She met this wealthy,
cute guy there and secretly started dating him. When dad found out, he
was so upset. The police found in dead in an alley, shot in the head.
In his hand he held the gun. Well, mom married that guy and everything
was fine. We moved into a decent house and I could tell my mom was so
happy. But one day, Seth lost his job. He drank so much alcohol that
night that it damaged him forever. Well, he started beating and
abusing my mom. She got scared and left. She just ran out and left me
with this lunatic! So he turned to me and beat me instead. He still
does it unto today.
Oh crap- I heard the door open! He must be home. I've got to hide you,
dear diary, so he won't read this. I've gotta go face another beating
for tonight- he looks especially drunk... Oh mother of all crap!
No one can ever read you. I, myself, will not even let you be seen. If
anyone comes upon these sacred pages, may I be cursed- my life would
come down on top of me, crumbling at the edges until finally the whole
world caves in on me. What greater horror is greater than that?
You, my dear friend, may call me Alice. Or Estella- but I thought that
was a too much elaborate name for my poor, simple breath that they
call life. I wouldn't dare write my real name in fear that after I die
someone might scan their beady eyes over these painfully written
words. Maybe I shall have you burned before I pass away. Do not be
offended, I only wish that someone not see your holy pages. Anyways, I
shall just remain as Alice.
Ever since I was a young child, I have yearned to have someone to tell
all my secrets to- to share my thoughts and dreams. I have always been
a misfit. Never have I had any friends. Even my imaginary ones turned
to be fraud- they just somehow couldn't express themselves to me, nor
I to them. And now my only friend I ever had has run away. No one
knows where, and the police around her house across the street remind
me day after day of the only friend I ever had high-tailing it. I'm so
tired of Police interviews... I don't know anything about it! Can't they
understand? The last thing she said to me was, "No one's there. They
don't understand me. But, as it is said, where there's true gold-
there you can find the truth!" She's always deep like that, or at
least... she was. She's the one who brought out the poet hidden deep
within my struggling soul. Now that she's gone, this little town of
Boston just isn't the same... It's been a full three weeks since she
left- I've been counting.
Well, she's just one of the reasons why I got you. There are many
more, but most of them are lost in the depths of my soul. There's her,
loneliness, June 15th, Seth.. Oh yeah, I haven't told you about Seth
yet. Seth, supposedly, is my father. My stepfather actually, but I
wouldn't even think of calling him dad. He's anything but that to me.
I mean, how can I get close to someone who ran off both my parents?
Okay, so here's how this messed up story goes: My mom and dad were
both in love and they had me. Then they got married- well, if you can
call it that. It was more of a dinky, covered "ceremony" where mom
wore a tan sundress. Well, we lived happily in a run-down apartment
until mom got herself a job in a shop downtown. She met this wealthy,
cute guy there and secretly started dating him. When dad found out, he
was so upset. The police found in dead in an alley, shot in the head.
In his hand he held the gun. Well, mom married that guy and everything
was fine. We moved into a decent house and I could tell my mom was so
happy. But one day, Seth lost his job. He drank so much alcohol that
night that it damaged him forever. Well, he started beating and
abusing my mom. She got scared and left. She just ran out and left me
with this lunatic! So he turned to me and beat me instead. He still
does it unto today.
Oh crap- I heard the door open! He must be home. I've got to hide you,
dear diary, so he won't read this. I've gotta go face another beating
for tonight- he looks especially drunk... Oh mother of all crap!