Laurel Dunaway
Journal Entry
It started out a s**t day. A terrible, relentless, s**t day. Probably on account that I was up with James half the night. But that was before the real s**t part. I’m hardly surprised. November really is the worst month.
that Today, he thought I was my mother. He kept saying Debra this and Debra that. The last thing a girl should want to be is her mother. I know. Debra used to tell me that all the time.
Dad spoke of their honeymoon. It was like a horror movie I couldn’t turn off. The kind where you very well know what’s coming, and you know it won’t be good. Yet you can’t look away.
I snapped at him. Then I felt terrible. I vowed to do better. Not that it’s an option; I know I must. I have to dig deep. Deeper than I’ve ever dug. I’m just tired.
Tomorrow mi
