Dear Diary...

Repetitive

She was having an awful day. She had nothing to look forward to when she got home. He isn't around. She wants to talk to him but she can't. She feels annoying for always calling or texting first.

She enters her home, throwing her bag carelessly onto the floor. She knows she has homework but she has no motivation to do it. So she lies to her mother about it. "It's already done" or "I don't have any" she says. Her mother doesn't question it.

She makes her way to her room, peeling off her school clothes as if they were all the secret worries that she wishes to rid herself of. Something more comfortable is what she slips into. A simple tank too and shorts.

As she pulls her hair up all she can think of is all the things she's been through the past few months. And she questions herself. "Why do you allow it" she wants to know. The simple answer. "I love him"

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows that they could never be. But she keeps hope because of the venomously sweet words coming from his mouth. Promises that aren't very well kept.

She brushes it off as best she can and helps her younger cousin on ABCMouse. For some reason she's irritated by him and his presence more than usual. She doesn't know why. She keeps it to herself.

She goes into her room and lays down. Facetimes a best friend and also a friend she met online. Sleep overtakes her...but not for long. She becomes restless and ventures back into the family room.

"Warm up his spaghetti" seems to re-trigger her foul mood. She only wants to be left alone. She doesn't want to be spoken to. She does as told without a word but her mind is racing.

She cooks for herself but can't finish. She loses her appetite mid-bite. She throws it away, a waste of food. "Maybe I'll fast for 3 days" she thinks aloud.

"Maybe a week" her uncle, who never fails to ruin her mood, says. Rude. She glares and brushes it off. Tea. She makes a cup of hot tea. She shuts the microwave harder than intended. He says something to her about it.

She keeps brushing it off. She fixes her tea. The refrigerator door closes harder than intended. "You need to take your time" he snaps. "Can you please not do this today? I don't feel good" she says in attempt to stop him from further ruining her day.

"That ain't got nothing to do with it. You won't take your time cause you're lazy." He insists. Something inside her snaps. The tears she's been hiding back for a week begin to flow. She can't stop them. She doesn't understand.

Her mother calls. She answers. She cries to her. "Wash your face with cool water" her mother says. "Finish the dishes then go relax" she does as told.

Her mind races as she does the dishes. She comes across s knife. She wonders if she should slit her wrist. "Across for attention, up and down for results" echoes inside her mind.

She decides against it and puts the knife on the rack to dry. She finishes the dishes and silently goes to her room. She lays down, unlocks her phone and expresses herself the only way she knows how. She types.

"She was having an awful day..."