Dairy of Miss. Hispanic Thug.
Monday, November 8, 2010.
Today, my birthday, I got this stupid, pink dairy. My mom thinks that I need to write about my thoughts, and feelings. Boy, she don't know anything. She knows what I have to go through every day, the guilt and pain that I have to put up with. But she still goes around, acting all happy, when we both know she wishes she was dead.
My mother told me that she cared about me, and that my therapist also agrees. What the fuck does he know? He sits on his lazy, ass and asks me stupid questions that make no sense. Yesterday, he asked me, "Katie, tomorrow is your birthday. What would you like for your birthday?". I sit there, confused, and mad. I didn't reply back, I just sat there and waited, hoped that he would just drop dead. Had he not been listening that whole time!? The whole time I explained to him about all my problems, and he stupidly asked what I wanted for my birthday!? I hate that man, so much! I hate his face, his voice, and especially his opinion.
My first "Assignment" is to describe myself. Well, I'm Hispanic, duh. I am actually Cuban if you want to get straight down to it. I have mocha, Cuban skin. I have long dark brown hair. I have normal brown eyes, and no they don't fucking sparkle like they do in fairy tales. I am average height, skinny, and have me some curves. Which is how I got my man, Davon. He is my babe. Not my true love, because I don't believe in that shit, but he would be if I did. I love him more than words can say.
I have to go to sleep now, tomorrow my grandmother is coming over. This is the first time I'll get to see her since my dad. I have to get some rest. Night nigga.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010.
My grandmother was supposed to be here seven hours ago. We have called and called, yet no one knows or cares, what has happened to my little grandmother. I'm scared, alone, and tired. We all woke up at eight in the morning, to greet her, but she never showed. My mom said that she was just probably sleeping...I guess she doesn't even know her own mother. See, my Chi Chi, which is what I call her, gets up at five every morning. She puts on her silky red night coat, and grabs a big cup of coffee.
My grandma was my everything. I loved her more than my mother, which isn't that hard to believe. We always did everything together, talked about everything, and even singed about every thing. In my Chi Chi's earlier years, she was married to a rich, white man, but then all went down hill after one year of her living the dream. She had found him cheating on her with her sister, which we never speak of, and then my Chi Chi just couldn't take the pain any longer and they got divorced. I knew you thought I was going to say that she killed, but oh no, Chi Chi loved him. She hated signing the divorce papers, but she knew she too good for a cheating white man. So that ended, and we never saw him and the money again. Well, and her sister.
We finally got a call. It was from the hospital in downtown. They said she was robbed and stabbed. By a Asian. Fuck this shit.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010.
My grandma is dead. My Chi Chi is dead. My love is dead. All because some stupid Asian, wanted twenty bucks! Damn, fuck it! I cant do this no more. I cant write about whats going on in my life anymore! I cant pretend that I enjoy writing this, I cant. No one cares that my life is done. I have to leave you at that for now. Why does life have to be so cruel...for a Hispanic Thug?
