24.10.2013
Dear Diary,
It’s another seemingly beautiful evening. The sky has broken into shades of blues and nectarines with specs of white clouds and shooting airplanes. I’m astound, as for all the unspoken words this perplexing infinity could be described with. It reminds me of my mother and her frizzy cooper-colored hair. Messy yet remarkably beautiful. I miss her and dad even though I spoke to them merely hours ago. I miss their warm appearance and giddy smiles and how they still seem to be crazy about each other. It never bothered me seeing my parents like that –completely smitten. It reassured me that there is still real love out there in the far, complex world. And also that my mother could love my father for who he really was. He and I are more similar, even look wise. Funnily enough I was only gifted with my mothers’ curly mane and not her inevitable ability to love all and be loved. I wish I was more like her.
YOU ARE READING
Diary of a schizophrenic
Novela Juvenil❝ If only you could see the world through my eyes❞
