mountainsong's Diaryland Diary


It's an alright Friday so far, surprisingly.

I'm overly glad that it's Friday. Perhaps the following days will be more promising.

There isn't much to reminisce. When I came home from an alright day of school today, I cooked myself some hot noodles, sat on my mother's new navy mat, and ate them while watching some soap opera that I could not identify.

The noodles felt warm and fresh in my mouth, and the thick, unused rug was an plush cushion beneath me. Though the soap opera faintly disgusted me with all it's drastic stories, I felt good.

I love having the house to myself - I don't know what my mother would have said if she saw me using her new mat and eating on it. She might scold me and send me off.

I'm fifteen and she continues to treat me as if I were twelve or younger. Sometimes I'd like to scoff at her, to put it more politely.

I haven't talked to Chris since that phone call a few days ago, but I have spoken with Jayson. I didn't inform him about the phone call - There was no need to. There wouldn't be anything he could do, anyway.

Jayson wants me to meet him at the park tomorrow. Should I? I don't know...

3:48 p.m. - January 11, 2002


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