I slam the doors closed behind me, running up the stairs to my room in a rush. Right when I enter my room my eyes scan the area, searching for my diary. It is my getaway, I feel like I'm talking to someone that cares when I write in it. Just then, I spot it. In the corner of my room on my empty dresser. Quickly, I sprint to it and rip it open, my mind already deciding what I will write today. As I flip to the right page, words fly through my mind, not all of them kind.
Dear Diary,
I don't get what I did to deserve those mean words, the abuse. It's still happening. It's all around me, everywhere I go, I still hear the words. No matter how hard I try, I can't block them out. He started it, It's all his fault. Well, I think.
It's all breaking apart, my life. I'm not sure how much longer I will be able to stand this. When I will break, I'm not sure. My balloon is half way full though, so it will be soon. I feel as if I'm in a bubble, just floating through life. As if no one really is noticing me, because they can't see me. Do you ever feel this way Diary?
Life at home is worse now that I'm out of school. Is it all my fault my life is like this? If I hadn't... Would life be better? I'm spinning out of control. As I write this, I keep glancing at my arm. I wouldn't really call it an arm anymore. It looks more like a cutting board gone wrong. As I write this, I can hear my drunk father screaming at me to open the door. He should know I won't by now. I block his terrible voice out daily, so all I hear is muffled shouting.
Mom barley is home now, She can't take it anymore. She runs off to a hotel after work with another man, hoping to get her mind off of her husband. But it never works, I know because when I see her in the mornif, she always looks depressed. She tells me everything. Which isn't always a good thing...
Diary, life sucks. It really does. No matter who you are, sometime in life, you won't be happy.
