Wednesday, December 5, 2012

July 12, 1965


Mom just doesn't get it! I hate her! Why is she always picking at me. Sometimes I wish she was dead. Even worse, she makes me wish I was dead. I just want our whole rotten lives to be over with. I know she’s just jealous of me because she’s stuck in this crappy new, cookie-cutter house with a husband she doesn't love and one daughter who is more boring than white bread and one who is ten times prettier than I ever was. I feel bad for her with her totally passion-less love life with tired, bald dad. Picking on me is all she has to do.
            Whatever. It’s not like I need her approval. I know I’m pretty. Betty is always saying how she wishes her hair was as perfectly puffy as mine. It’s not at all dry, but has a great crimp to it. Betty has great skin though. I tell her that. Also, would I get boys attention if I wasn't pretty? I don’t think so. 

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