Running With The Wolves

1- Dear diary...

Dear diary,

My name is Mila Rodrigues. I'm currently writing on you because I am being oblige by the psychiatrist two friends of mine forced me to see... so my personal conclusion is that I have no longer any control over my own life.

Huh. Real funny right? I mean that's probably what the psychiatrist will diagnose me at the end, and I already spoiled you!

Let me tell why I believe in such:
1- because of the way I'm being compelled to do this whole thing.
And 2- because I will do exactly what she wants and tell my life story. Wait until the end you'll get it.

Behold:

Popped into the world 25 years ago, nothing to complain about the firsts years, it was awsome, no dad though, but neh, also my neighbor wasn't quite the nicest since she just told everyone to keep the other children away from me because a talked with the devil at night, well i didn't know the moon goes by devil but what would I know I was just a silly kid.

While was okay to have imaginary friends a big rock that we can all see was outrageous for her. But this might not be as comparable. I remember clear as day the first time I had seen her:

Her light entered my room through the window, shining all over, somehow I felt more comfortable with it there. To my surprise, slowly the mirage of a woman materialized right before my eyes, it would be scary as shit to have a ghost looking straight into your eyes like she was, she laughed lightly and said: "Why, you don't need to be scared of ghosts. All souls go back to where they are all from. I personally make sure of it." Creepy? Maybe. But she spoke with such elegance her voice sounded like velvet, it was friendly and inviting. This happened when I was 4 and she kept coming back almost every night, our conversations evolved until she turned out my therapist, life adviser, private tutor and friend.

Dear Jane, also known as my mother, then decided to put another little thing on this planet when I was six. She looked like mom, big blue eyes, a light brown hair and the skin that would get red after two seconds out in the sun; she also was a stinky lil thing but squishy and so fragile. Tiny Mariana have always shown signs of her love for music, I belive the times she was "screaming" in the middle of the night she was just trying to find her tune. Mom and I use to put her into dolls clothes and I think she will always look great as chuckie, it was fun.

For half a year. When child me notice how mom was thinner and weaker than normal.

Mommy was very very sick. Lung cancer it was. She only lasted the rest of the year.

Yeah my mother was simply gone. She made me promise I would take care of my little sister and also left other lessons about life things, it got annoying quickly when she talked about soulmates.. she belived my dad was hers, even in her death bed she still didn't told me anything about him (nowadays I prefer to believe he just left).

After mom we were delivered to a teacher called Penelope: scary, crazy, old woman. Unexpectedly from my first impression of her she did took good care of us since day one. Yet she never ceased being a hot headed lady.

When I was fifteen granny decided she wanted us to move in with her younger brother in another country. I didn't care because people still thought I talked with the devil (some even had the nerve to say that my mother died because of me) but apparently my sister's cuteness and sweetness overcome her relation to me so people did liked her and she did had friends which made a little bit harder to pack.

We make it alive and unharmed, something I needed to reassure granny several times when we landed, to meet who would be the man with a very generic name Nicolas, Old Nick, he was funny looking, very tall, big ears, thick brows, green eyes like granny, messy short hair, big unruly beard hiding a cute little smile. Little did I know he was soon to be my boss, later that same day would be my first, of many days, working on his garage.