The Overall Depressing Life of a Writer-- In Diary Entries

Prologue

Dear Diary,

We've gotta get you a name soon that doesn't sound so cliche. Honestly, if I'm gonna have to address you as "Dear Diary" the whole time I'm writing, we're gonna have to part ways. For one thing, you're definitely not dear to me and, for another, I feel like a cunt writing "Dear Diary" over and over again.

But that's not the point.

The point is, I've gone another day hating myself and I honest to God have no idea what's going to happen to me tomorrow. Dad and I are under a temporary cease fire now that our war has breached Mom's territory; a big no-no, mind you. You see, Mom's becoming a doctor in three months after spending seven years trying to do it. And I just so happened to fuck up majorly, causing her to come home and deal with us early to keep us from metaphorically dropping atom bombs on our lands. Because of that, she's on probation at her internship, meaning that if she leaves early again for any reason, bye-bye Ph.D, hello seven years of wasted time.

So my house is in shambles. It's been in shambles, actually, but now it's worse. It's like that dude who thought his wife was a hat  (Mom had me read that book and it was quite the experience). It ain't gettin' any better, kid. And that sucks because then I feel shitty and then I get destructive thoughts that affect my parents and little brother later. So I don't talk about my issues because my issues are irrelevant to the bigger picture. The bigger picture are those colleges sending me emails and hanging out with friends like, ya know, a normal kid. But I stress a little too much. I have anxiety. I panic at the drop of a hat, but not everyone knows that. So I isolate and I think everyone knows that one.

I'm getting too ahead of myself. Let me start by saying hi. My name's Toni Hurston. I'm turning sixteen next month. I'm a black girl with my entire race on my shoulders. I have two over-achieving parents, one of which most likely hates me. My brother and I are fifteen years apart. I'm best friends with Jesus Christ and a short girl who has a cinnamon roll, dreamboat boyfriend. I have a crush on a guy who lives two counties away and who's probably homosexual. And I'm a writer, but I'm a shitty one.

I'll go more into the details some entries later, Diary-Who-Requires-A-Name.

With Fake Love,

Toni

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