My Diary

chapter 3

March 9, 2012

Dear Diary,

I’ve been thinking about the whole Craig thing, and different scenarios play through my head, some great, some awful. In one of them, he does the same thing I did to him but reversed, and it means that he likes me too. That one is my favorite, we get together, we go out, and my life is perfect. Another good one is where he just tells me that he thought about it and decided that he likes me too, and again my life is perfect.

                But the one that gets me so upset is where he says he did think about it and decides that he will only ever like me as a friend, nothing more. That has happened to me before, there was this guy I met this summer named Zach and he was pretty darn cute. I eventually told him I liked him and he told me he only liked me as a friend…. Anyways, I’m just hoping that this does not happen with Craig, if it does at least, I am ready; I made sure I didn’t get my hopes up.

                That’s enough about boys and my love life, how about I talk about myself a little, even though dear diary, you cannot comment back because, well, you can’t. Anyway, I am 5’8, my favorite color is blue, I love, love, love, poetry, (and I write some things too), and my favorite animal would have to be any type of cat, they are so good at cuddling.

Back to the poetry thing, if I could spend a whole day doing something, I would either pick writing poetry and creating art (that’s another one of my favorite things to do). In fact in art class I am drawing a tiger using a gridline, and it has taken me one week to draw it, and this past week was all for shading it in and that is harder than it looks.

                For poetry I have had writers block for quite some time, but just last night as I was thinking about Craig, I came up with a haiku, it goes like this…..

If voices were a

Key to the heart than I would

Steal yours every day.

How’s that for having writers block, ha! Oh yea, dear diary, I just remembered something, yesterday my dad told me that a guy from a Minnesota art school called up yesterday, or some other day and said he would like to interview me. Me!!! All we have to do is call him back, and I’m hoping we will do that today, I just can’t wait. Maybe if everything goes well, than I might get a scholarship, I don’t know, anything is possible. People tell me that my artwork is really good, for example, just recently on of my art projects was put on display at a youth art show, and another one just won Runner Up in an Environmental Poster Contest.

                I have forever been thinking of becoming a psychologist, I just have a great knack for helping people with their problems. But as I get older I have realized that I enjoy art much more than anything else, except for maybe poetry.

Ok dear diary, I’m going to quit for now, but I might come back to you later if I feel like it, I might, I might not, ta-ta for now.    -Ali        

Later In the Day….

                As I sit here listening to music, I realize dear diary that I have not told you my whole life story. It’s not a pretty one, in fact at some points it gets pretty disgusting, I should now, I lived it. It starts on the day January 10, 1995, the day I was born. My mom was seventeen when she had me, yes I know, a very young age to have a child, and the thing is, she wasn’t even in love or married to the guy who was my father. She did this more than once, having two more kids but each with a different father.

One of my half-brothers dads could take care of him and support him so he was able to keep him, the brothers’ name is Jake. My other brother and I were not quite so lucky; we stayed with our birth mom for around four years, all the while going to different foster homes in between long stays with my birth mom.

                Josie is her name, she is about twenty-three at this time, and she smoked, did drugs, and never had a house or a job. She slept around at different boyfriend’s houses whenever she wasn’t sleeping at her mothers. I would wear the same outfit for a week at a time, I only owned maybe one or two pairs of underwear, and I had lice no matter what I did. She never had enough money to buy food, and when she did, I would get barely any because other people would eat it before I could get to it.

                Then a break came, someone actually wanted to adopt me. I still remember the day I first met her, she was wearing overalls, a red t-shirt underneath that, her hair was in two pigtails, and she was wearing the biggest smile I had ever seen. Before a person adopts someone they usually keep them at their home to get used to the idea of them, and to see if it is the right choice for them. Well during this period I would still get to go on weekend visits to see my birth mom.

I still remember the one time I went to visit her, this time she was staying at one of my cousin’s parents’ home. Right as we opened the door, one of my many cousins ran through the door, butt naked, it was nasty. Later in the day I went into a living room type place in the house where a whole bunch of men were lined up around the room, sitting in a circle. They were passing something around, a small little rolled up paper thing it looked to be. They would stick the one end in their mouth, take it out and smoke would magically come out of their mouths.

I was fascinated with this so I sat down in an open spot and waited until the little paper got to me, the man on my right with the little paper as I held out my small hand to reach for the odd looking thing. He told me what it was, calling it something that started with a c, but I couldn’t pronounce it. He then asked me if I would like to try, and I shook my head vigorously, I was young and dumb. I took that little rolled up paper in my fingertips like they had and put it into my mouth also like they had. The man then told me to breathe in, and I did.

What happened next is probably one of the worst things I have experienced in my life, the smoke burned throughout my whole body, and at that moment my young body promised itself that it would never do anything like that again. I took off running away as the men laughed at me, laughing at my weakness. As I look back now I can tell that what they had done was terrible, but not as terrible as something else that took place a month later…..

I’m sorry dear diary, I cannot go on right now, I will tell you some other day what had happen when I am right and ready to tell you, see ya.

-Ali