Journal Entry ||Divorced Parents|| (3)

Dear Diary,

Who knew a divorce would change my life so drastically?

The house felt so empty now. No more sounds of my dad making food in the middle of the night. No more waking up to my mom blasting her Gospel music. The once beautifully decorated walls filled with memories were now blank. The beautiful wedding pictures, the family outing albums...gone. The millions of my father's degrees...gone.

Of course I woke up to an empty house this morning, no different then any other morning after the divorce. The lunch money accompanied with the usual note "for Magi...from Papi"—wasn't there. "You know honey, I took on a few more shifts at work just so we can stay on our feet. Try and start saving your money, you know I won't be able to give you lunch money everyday like your father did." Quickly pushing my mother's voice out of my head, I grabbed my purse and went to school.

"I hate Thursdays," I said flipping through my Physics notebook. Overhearing my comment, Amanda replied, "I know right. It's so0o close to Friday but not really. And my parents always go out for dinner on Fridays leaving me all by myself. They're home all the time, I can’t stand it. I can't wait till tomorrow!"

"I definitely don't remember asking you" I said mumbling under my breath.

'Leaving me all by myself'...wow. Being alone in the house drives me insane. Mom has to work more often so we don't lose the house. Papi moved out a few weeks ago and has never stepped foot back here. How can being left alone be so great? I would give anything to have my parents home all the time.

The rest of the school day got worse.
“Any intentions?”
“My parents ‘cause they just bought me a new car!!”
“It’s my parents’ anniversary today.”
I could have sworn I missed the memo that it was "talk about my parents day".
The 2:21 bell rings. Volleyball time! the only thing that's been getting my mind off of the divorce. After getting subbed out in the second set and going back in just a few minutes later, I looked out into the bleachers. Seeing all the parents there cheering and giving words of encouragement to their daughters got to me. Why can’t I have that? "Macda, what the hell, the ball was right in front of you," said Smarthine with aggravation. "I know, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
But it did. I kept missing passes, missing serves, and bumping into my teammates. My mind wasn't on that game at all. I kept thinking of going home to an empty house, knowing that my father wouldn't be waiting for me with chicken teriyaki like he always had on Thursday nights.

Why can't things go back to the way they were? When I'd hear my parents play fighting about who would take a shower first. Or the surprise anniversary, birthday, and Mother's Day gifts my dad always seemed to have planned at least four months in advance. Or even my mom cracking jokes on my dad's beard—hilarious.

But it'll never be like that again.

Journal Entry ||Perspective of a Teenager Getting Cheated On|| (2)

Dear Diary,

4 a.m. …again.
Why the hell was this the 5th morning I woke up stressing over him?
He definitely wasn’t losing sleep over me.
After seeing him in the back corner behind the vending machines with Michelle last week, all I could do was cringe in pain every time he’d kiss my lips. Two years—down the drain. He didn’t know I saw him and I haven’t exactly found a way to confront him yet.
I mean, how do I bring that into conversation?

Going to school today was the worst. Arriving their just in time to get my books and walk to class, there he was… waiting for me as usual.
“Baby, I got an A on my Calculus test!” as he approached to hug me.
“Aww good job babe, I’m so proud of you.”

Lie.
I could careless.

“Baby you ok?” he hesitated, sensing the falseness in my voice.
I couldn’t do it anymore. I love him, but why punish myself for his wrongdoing?
He kissed me. I broke down.
I told myself I was going to stay strong. Why was I crying? This makes me look so weak.

“Macda-Nut we’re ‘bout to be late. Hurry up!!!” screamed a familiar voice running towards me. As Dora grabbed my right arm, unaware of what was going on, she pulled me into English class.
I wished those 50 minutes had never ended because walking through the hallways was brutal.
“I heard Gabriel’s been cheatin’ on her ever since they started goin’ out”
“Yo, Gabriel’s a G…two girls at the same time?”

Was I the only one that didn’t know? From the beginning, the “be careful with Gabriel” and “keep an eye on him” comments never hit me. I felt betrayed and hurt. Opening my locker, all I could do was stare into darkness and cry. The pain was unbearable. My body felt paralyzed. After two years of giving him everything, living to make him happy. It was like a glass splinter working its way into my heart. It was a soul hurt. A real-gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.

I need to end this.

Journal Entry ||Pregnant Teenager|| (1)

Dear Diary,

3 months, 23 days, and 10 hours to go.

Waking up to a mouth full of vomit isn’t exactly my favorite kind of morning… but that’s exactly the one I had. Barely making it to the toilet, I sat on the bathroom floor and threw up my macaroni and cheese dinner. As the last chuncks came out, I remained there. Of course there were mirrors all around forcing me to stare at the ugliest person I’ve ever seen. It was almost 7 o’clock so I showered, got dressed, and tried to make myself look half decent.
Getting in the car was ridiculous today. As my stomach pushed against the steering wheel, I felt him kick back (as if he hasn’t caused me enough pain already). I quickly adjusted it and drove to school. As usual, all I could do was ask stupid questions that I already knew the answers to.
“How could I let this happen to me? What the hell was I thinking?”

Then the lingering one in the back of my head, "Abortion?"
Quickly shot down by the few morals I had left, "Hell no."

School definitely didn’t make my day any better. Friends? Sure. If friends are the ones that walk with me to class then sit in a corner and talk about how much of a hypocrite I am. I mean, who could blame them? Last year, all I did was talk about the importance of chastity and abstinence. Now look at me. In three months, I'll be a mother taking her child to school with her. Sitting in second period, all I could hear were the guys laughing, “Wait till marriage my ass. She couldn’t even wait till she was 17.”

Ouch.

(They knew my birthday was in six days)

School went by as usual—dirty looks, under breath whispers, rude comments. Leaving that parking lot would have been the best feeling if I didn’t see my old volleyball teammates laughing and talking about their last league game today. I miss them. I should have been on that van.

Home was no different from school…maybe even worse. Speaking to myself as I walked through the front door, “How the hell am I going to support a baby? I’m only 16.” Of course my brother looks at me in disgust and needs to add his unnecessary comments, “Who told you to open your fuckin’ legs Macda. Man, in 3 months you're gonna be a mother. You’re a lil’ hoe like all the rest of them, talking about ‘oh I’m waiting till marriage’ yeah the fuck right. How can you even pray at night?”

I stayed quiet of course. He didn’t have the right to talk to me like that, but what did it matter. At least he spoke to me. My parents haven’t said a word to me for 5 months and 7 days. My grandparents blame me for their high blood pressure.

Like everyday, I fled to my refuge—my room.

When will I ever be happy again?



3 months, 23 days, and 9 more hours to go…

Notes on a Blind Teenager

What do I look like?
Why are there some people singled out as prettiest or most hadsome?
Am I pretty?
Do people laugh and make fun of me right in front of my face?
I hope the seats arent moved around in class today.
All I can do is touch, listen, smell...
Am I up to date with fashion?
people are getting really annoyed with me bumping into them
I'm sick of all the questions (can you see this? how about this?)


insecurities-->
does my body look like the most popular girl in school's body?
why don't any boys want to talk to me?
i'll never get a boyfriend
why don't I get invited to parties or dances?

i'm human just like everyone else
i have feelings and emotions
i can hurt, cry, laugh...love

"How do you know where to sit in your classes?"
"It's a routine, i just get used to it...kind of like crying myself to sleep"

||From Me to God|| (5)

Dear God,

Q. Why do bad things happen to good people?
A. Randomness

What? Is that answer supposed to console a grieving family after a loss?
“Hey I’m sorry to hear about your mother, the woman that has done everything for you from the day you were born. It’s just randomness.”

Or maybe, after your best friend gets kidnapped and almost raped, I’m sure the emotional hurt will ease after hearing,
“Yeah, I heard about that guy putting a gun to your head if you didn’t have sex with him, don’t worry, it was just randomness.”

Lord, are we supposed to live based off of randomness. I’ve never understood that and I don’t think I ever will. Opposed to randomness you’ve done so much for us. Our health, food to eat, homes to live in, loving families…the list goes on. Why is that I always focus on what’s wrong.
I’m not gonna lie… I’ve lost my way. Going to church hasn't felt the same. I don't want to feel like this. I want to praise your name and worship you. But it’s getting so hard to. I’m not perfect, but there’s so much pressure to try and act like I am to the point where I’m becoming a whole other person. I wouldn’t call it living a double life, but it's certainly heading in that direction. And my grandmother, she's really sick. I can't remember how many times my family has prayed asking you to heal her. Also, how can something end up so perfect but hurt me in the process. I feel like I'm rambling, but the millions of questions and thoughts in my mind need to be expressed. I know our lives are predestined. Was I predestined to get hurt without reason? Were millions of people predestined to be homeless after Hurricane Katrina? Prayers after prayers after prayers.

Then I stopped feeling that my prayers were being answered.

I started looking for answers in all the wrong places. I forgot who I was, got caught up in this world. It’s just that, every time a wound healed, something else took that healing away. I was blind. I tried to stop the rain. Nothing worked.

I finally got on my knees.

Father, can you hear me?
I know it’s been a long time. Do you still remember my name? I tried to keep my mind on you but trouble kept calling me. I can't change the past. I don't want to hurt anymore. I should have never doubted your love for us. Please, helpe me believe because I'm having trouble seeing past what I see right now. If you can hear me, can you give me a sign because I don't feel you like I should. My faith is almost gone and I can't hold on much longer.

Help.

Love,
Macda

||Body part to Self|| (4)

Dear Macda,

Left and Right ears here.
We have a few things to discuss with you.
We don’t mean to make you feel bad but we’re heated.

Two summers ago, you let some lady stab us. Not only could we barely understand what she was saying, but then we were sore for a good two months. How could you be so inconsiderate? We felt like infecting ourselves just so you could realize how much that hurt us. After a lot of consideration (which you are lacking), we decided not to because the medical bill—not cheap. Consider that a favor.
Now, we’re guessing you have some type of OCD where you can’t take showers with our rings on. That’s kind of getting to be a bit annoying considering that you are poking us more often. JUST LEAVE THEM IN, YOU PSYCHO!
And what’s going on with us wearing these heavy rings all of a sudden. We DO NOT have strength for that, and to be honest with you, they’re ugly. Get rid of them.

Blasting music in your car needs to end. I completely understand that it’s not always your fault. So to make it easier for you, we had lunch with Carla and Carla’s ears and a compromise is definitely in the works. Also for your birthday present, we’ve been trying to create a toning device in which we can tone out your mom whenever we sense a raise in the volume of her voice. We hope you appreciate it.

One more thing before we go. We’re kind of jealous that hands, neck, and head are always warm and looking cute in designer during the winter season. Hands always rub it in and they've been getting pretty personal. It's so annoying, especially when they’re the one’s keeping us warm. When are we gonna get the hook up?

You beloved,
L.R. Ears

||From God to Satan|| (3)

Dear Lucifer,

Stop. Honestly, just give up. This whole corrupting my followers business you have going on, it’s not working. You are being a hypocrite. For a time, you wanted to be in heaven. You made the choice to leave. After you made Adam eat that apple, I knew you’d be a problem.

Killing, hatred, cheating, jealousy. Wow! What great effort you’ve made. Haven’t you ever noticed that after your attempts of influencing my followers, they almost always comeback to me asking me for forgiveness. How many people ask you for forgiveness? Is there a specific day of the week set aside just for you? Are there thousands of writings describing your desires for humanity? Oh, wait, I guess you’re somewhat mentioned in the Bible. Face it, I have elementary, high school, and college courses about me. You’re below me, literally.

Just to let you know, mistakes and slip-ups, perfectly okay with me. Go ahead and try to hurt my disciples, you’ll soon be disgraced and turn back in shame. You intend to harm them, but that just makes them stronger. Your evil spirits don’t come close to my Holy Spirit. Starvation and poverty—not your doing. Stop taking credit for it. It’s part of the randomness of the world. I’m sure you think it’s benefiting you but have you forgotten about Mother Theresa or Emily Samek?

Well Lu, tomorrow’s Sunday so I need to go prepare to switch up a few sermons. Before I go, I just wanted to give you some words of advice… or more like commands: Don’t you dare try to touch my followers. I have wayyyyy more power than you do.

I bless you.

Love,
The Man Upstairs