Remember that regular degular 21-year-old who had it all figured out? Well, surprise! Back to 16 we go, where teenage chaos reigns supreme and I'm just your average girl, in an alternate world as St. Hugh's pride and joy and head girl extraordinate...
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Why the time a move so slow? Mi really affi do this fi another 8 weeks?
Mi will bawl enoooo!
But yuh already a bawl Zara..
I glance at myself in the mirror. My face fat, eyes swollen, snot trickling down my lips as I sob with my bottom lip puckered out.
"Mi want Nickoiiiii..." I whine, tears streaming down.
It's another day and he's still not here.
Weh him deh so long?
It's been like 5 days.
5 long days, almost a week, he knows that I need him and he's gone. He called a few times but refuses to tell me where he is.
'Sup'm important mami mi soon tell yuh' the crosses tells me.
And that was like two days ago.
He brought mommy here. She sleeps with me. Cooks for me, she's outside washing our baby's clothes. I'm grateful but I hate everything. I hate how I feel. I hate how my body looks, I look like a big overweight cow.
I hate how emotional I get.
How negative I seem.
Why mi foot affi swell up so? Dem can't even wul inna slippers! I drag my eyes up to my hip. Why dem strech mark yer deh pan me? Why mi breast so heavy?
Shut yuh mouth, stretch marks are beautiful.
Rolling over, I reach for my phone to look at the Carnival pictures of me and my friends. Skipping through, I cry even more.
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