Diary
Page One
Your mother called. She called to tell me that she read somewhere that women whom were married to sailors kept a diary until they came back. The sailors kept one as well. I wanted to shout and tell her how stupid the idea was. How was a single, pregnant mother suppose to work at a shitty diner, take care of her 4-year-old daughter, keep her senile old father from going out in the rain, and keep a diary for a man who was obviously wasn’t coming back? He took the car, all the valuables, and even his wife’s own mother’s expensive gold ring she inherited; Gerard Arthur Way isn’t coming back. And the fucker isn’t even a sailor.
Donna Way had said it was to inform each other on how the other has been. Well, I can tell you now, Gerard Arthur Way, if you are reading this, I’ve been pretty shitty. I work 12 hours at Denny’s, still, I take care of Roxy, I take care of my father. How have you been, you piece of shit? How’s whatername? I hope you two are having fun, your mom won’t tell me a thing. A shame, since I am raising her first grandchild, and carrying her next. She wants me to name the child after you, if it’s a boy. I don’t think it’ll happen, since I fucking hate you.
I would expect some resistance to help out her daughter-in-law, but when she full blown refuses to help send some money to help her first grandchild eat, that’s really low. She advises me to do all these things, things that I use to consider fun, but I can’t. Doesn’t she know I’m suffering? Well, I’ve accepted my own suffering; Doesn’t she know Roxanne Elena Lee Way is suffering? Oh, do you not remember your daughter’s name? That’s why I put her full name in there, just in case you forgot, you asshole, you left her with me, remember? She has dark hair, past her shoulders, she’s waist high, she’s growing rapidly. Her eyes are hazel, just like yours, you shitty bastard, and that little smile you all inherited from your mother. But Roxy hasn’t smiled since you left, I almost forgot what it looks like if I didn’t have her picture on my father’s old refrigerator.
She asks about you, I don’t know why, but she still cares. She watched the old rusty window, out in the living room, waiting for our old, dark blue dodge will pull up. She jumps whenever one passes by, but whimpers when it doesn’t stop. Sometimes I watch with her, I wish I didn’t because that means I’m getting her hopes up. She doesn’t cry anymore, she said her tears are all gone, from her body. She’s such a smart girl. I hope our next, and I use the word our loosely, is as smart as Roxy. She loves watching my father’s old television, the one that squiggles if you move continuously; her and my father watch cartoons together.
I gotta go, Roxy threw up.
Donna Way had said it was to inform each other on how the other has been. Well, I can tell you now, Gerard Arthur Way, if you are reading this, I’ve been pretty shitty. I work 12 hours at Denny’s, still, I take care of Roxy, I take care of my father. How have you been, you piece of shit? How’s whatername? I hope you two are having fun, your mom won’t tell me a thing. A shame, since I am raising her first grandchild, and carrying her next. She wants me to name the child after you, if it’s a boy. I don’t think it’ll happen, since I fucking hate you.
I would expect some resistance to help out her daughter-in-law, but when she full blown refuses to help send some money to help her first grandchild eat, that’s really low. She advises me to do all these things, things that I use to consider fun, but I can’t. Doesn’t she know I’m suffering? Well, I’ve accepted my own suffering; Doesn’t she know Roxanne Elena Lee Way is suffering? Oh, do you not remember your daughter’s name? That’s why I put her full name in there, just in case you forgot, you asshole, you left her with me, remember? She has dark hair, past her shoulders, she’s waist high, she’s growing rapidly. Her eyes are hazel, just like yours, you shitty bastard, and that little smile you all inherited from your mother. But Roxy hasn’t smiled since you left, I almost forgot what it looks like if I didn’t have her picture on my father’s old refrigerator.
She asks about you, I don’t know why, but she still cares. She watched the old rusty window, out in the living room, waiting for our old, dark blue dodge will pull up. She jumps whenever one passes by, but whimpers when it doesn’t stop. Sometimes I watch with her, I wish I didn’t because that means I’m getting her hopes up. She doesn’t cry anymore, she said her tears are all gone, from her body. She’s such a smart girl. I hope our next, and I use the word our loosely, is as smart as Roxy. She loves watching my father’s old television, the one that squiggles if you move continuously; her and my father watch cartoons together.
I gotta go, Roxy threw up.