I Found My Sister’s Diary After She Disappeared
I stuck my hand into the small space and grabbed the diary. I got like three splinters doing so (damn it, Emma, why can’t you at least sand the fucking wood?) but I didn’t care. My heart was thudding in my chest and I hoped I wouldn’t have a heart attack or fucking die or something before getting to read this. This was hope that I held in my trembling, splintered hand. I skimmed through the pages, briefly reading about her discuss her height, her items, the weather, her thoughts about politics and animals and all bullshit stuff that I already knew or stuff that couldn’t help bring her back. About halfway through, her handwriting began to look different. That’s where I started to read. Without looking away from the page, I sat down on her floor (my back to the damn mirror), and read. The lump in my throat grew larger and my stomach seemed to drop lower after each sentence. I learned where my sister had gone.
April 4
Stephanie and I went to a yard sale today, and I found the most beautiful mirror. I prefer broken things, because they look as I feel inside. That is so dramatic, but it’s the simple truth. This mirror isn’t broken, but it’s special. I knew that the moment I looked at it. Even Stephanie likes it. I have to figure out where I’m going to put it.
April 5
I put the mirror where it wanted to be. I have a medium-sized room, and I have my treasures organized. I put them where I like them, but the mirror wanted to have its own wall. It didn’t want to be hung on the wall, however, because it didn’t want to fall and break. It would be useless then, it said.
April 5
My reflection is so special. I want to show Stephanie but it said no.
April 17
During certain hours, I can write here. My diary isn’t the only thing I have neglected, but I just don’t have the time or interest for anything else. I will explain later. My friend said I may.
May 14
Stephanie is a good sister. She keeps trying to feed me and engage in conversation. I want to show her my reflection and introduce her to my first best friend, but I am not allowed. I feel badly when I do it, but my friend says my sister will just get in the way of our friendship, so I have to curse at her. I have to yell to get her to stay away, otherwise she would keep bothering me.
July 9
It is my birthday. I told my best friend, but she doesn’t seem to care. Not because she is mean, but because she says there are better things. I can’t help it, I want to eat the cake that Stephanie has made, and I can hear my parents in the kitchen. I told my friend that I have not seen my father in so many years but she says that he, just like everyone else, will ruin what we have. And there is so much more for me to learn so I suppose I’m okay with telling them all to go fuck themselves. I stopped feeling so guilty for cursing at them, because one day things will be better for me. My friend told me so, and I believe her.
September 20
I do not have time to write. For once in my life, I feel so important. My friend. It was a long time ago when I said I would explain, and I will, but I should wait until the right time. I have nothing else to say because I just don’t have the desire to write. I would rather talk with the Other Me.
Still September?
My friend says the months don’t matter. Nor do dates or time or even food. She gives me energy. I’ll explain later.