Saturday September 23
I feel like a total pussy writing in you.
Jason says I have to write in you. He said, "Nate, I got you a diary. I want you to write in it." So of course I was like, "What the fuck? I'm a guy, this is retarded." But he insisted and said, "Nate you have a lot of anger in you. This can help you."
Jason yelled at me for calling him a fag. He said, "Nate, you have to write in that journal." And I was like, "No way!" And so he said, "Even I have my own journal." So I said, "Fag."
And then he yelled at me.
And then he locked me in my room. Seriously. He locked me in my room. As in, I'm stuck in here. For the rest of my life.
Well, maybe not the rest of my life.
Just until "I get a reality check."
Is it okay that I want to kill myself right now?
I'm thinking of jumping out the window. Jason told me that until mum and dad get home my mum's European tour, he's still in charge of me. And that's that. Which means if I call him a "mean word" he locks me in my room.
Day count: one.
Really? One day? It feels like it's been at least twelve.
Maybe my nice brother, Shane, will let me out.
But sometimes I question his sanity.
The more I look at it, that window looks more tempting with each passing second.
Jason's uber pissed.
I broke my arm.
Here we are sitting at the hospital waiting for me to get a cast.
Only guess what? I broke my left arm, so Jason's still making me write in you, you damn diary.
Why couldn't I have broken my right arm?
Shane is getting mad at a vending machine. Apparently, it ate his money and he never got his skittles. Now he's pouting. Too bad so sad, Shane.
Jason's called Mum and Dad. "Mummy? Oh, hey Dad. Oh she is? Tell her I said break a leg… or whatever. But, anyway… Nate broke his arm. We're at the hospital… That's what I said! Okay, I'll tell him. Bye Daddy." Then he turned to me and said, "Dad says you're an idiot."
Sunday September 24
Just woke up.
I decided to write in you, diary, because, well, what else am I going to do? Jason took away my laptop, cell phone, and TV. The only thing in this room is a bed, a lamp, and a Bible.
Why do we even have a Bible anyway?
I picked up the Bible. Read a page. Got so bored.
That's the last time I ever pick up a book that has a zillion pages.
Mummy called me. I got to actually leave my room and answer the phone in the media room. She said, "Nate, dear, I hope you're okay. Jason told me you jumped out the window. Why?" So I told her, "Well, Mumsie, Jason locked me in my room with a Bible." Then she started laughing.
I got to go downstairs for dinner. Ate some McDonalds. Jason's too lazy to cook and Mum's personal assistant, Peter, is in Europe with her and Dad. (He usually cooks for us. Even though his food sucks, we eat it anyway.)
When is she coming back anyway?
I miss Mummy. She never locked me in my room.
So I got the news of the day from Shane.
Apparently, some kids in Haiti were doing this musical, only they jumped around a little too much and the whole building collapsed.
I'm going to Hell for laughing at that. I nearly shit my pants. They really brought down the house with their performance, eh?
I hate Mondays.
But guess what? Mum's coming home in two days! That means only two more days of Hell with Jason and then I'm a free bird!
I should be sleeping. But I'm not. I'm sitting here writing.
I managed to go into the game room and checked my email. I had fifty-seven emails. Mostly from my cousin Penelope. I wrote to her, "Hey Penny. Jason grounded me. Get on instant messenger at noon tomorrow." Noon is when I have study hall and I get to play around on the computer.
I also managed to YouTube some stuff before Jason caught me and dragged me kicking and screaming back to my room. I called him a "donkey-raping shit eater" and he told me I was grounded for another week.
Too bad when Mummy comes home, it won't matter.
Monday September 25
It is officially way too early to be awake.
Who ever came up with two-day weekends needs to be shot.
I have a feeling that today's going to suck so bad.
I have no idea why, but I have a sudden strange compelling to write in you. Constantly. Mostly because my teacher, Ms. Tranny, is talking about DNA. Really, who gives a flying fuck? I sure don't.
The person next to me is picking his nose and acting like he just scratched it.
Ha. Yeah. I saw you. There's no hiding that.
And I'm pretty sure he ate a booger too. Or sniffed it at least.
Oh, shit I think she's
I'm in world history now. Ms. Tranny stole you from me. And then read you. And then gave me a detention. And then told me to "not write hurtful things in journals where other people can read it." And then gave me you back.
Ms. Tranny doesn't like her little nickname apparently.
Screw her. I'll just call her "China Town" instead like I used to.
Penny didn't get online. So now I'm pissed at her. I really wanted to tell her about China Town.
China Town emailed my parents. How do I know this? Well, first I got an email from mum saying, "Nate – read this letter from your science teacher! She's such a crazy bitch! It's hilarious! She sent it to Dad too." So I went onto Dad's email (You may be wondering how I know the password. Well, my dad is blind so I check his email for him.) and I read the letter.
It said something about how I'm disrespectful and how I have anger issues. Wait a second; is Jason not the only one who thinks I have anger issues?
You know what I don't understand? I've told all my teachers a million times that my dad is blind and can't read emails, but they still send him them.
This kid Jess and his life partner David stole my French book. They started making fun of it. They keep looking at pictures with dialogue and saying different things instead. And it's all really hilarious, dirty stuff.
I hit them over the head with the book when they started writing in the book.
And then erased what they wrote.
I sat down at my lunch table with my friends. My friend Whitney is freaking out about some science project she didn't do. Luckily, I'm in regulars biology, so I don't have to do this… I think it's called "Killer Germs."
That's what it is. And everyone is freaking out about it. I heard someone say, "I hope whoever wrote this book dies of small pox."
I hope everyone dies of small pox.
Jason picked me up late from school. Asshole. He said he'd get here at 4:15. It's almost 5:30 now.
Is that my shit mobile? Jason rolled into the parking lot with our disgusting old car. Don't ask why my mum still has it, because I won't have an answer. It's a blue mini van that smells like year-old diapers. And it looks like someone hit it with a baseball bat repeatedly.
I get in the shit mobile and say, "Jason, why are we in the shit mobile?" And he said, "Mum fired John." And I was like, "Why?" And he said, "She's crazy."
John is… well was … our limo driver.
So then I said, "Why didn't you pick me up in the limo?" And Jason said, "Because Mum won't let me." And I said, "Oh yeah. Cause you got high and crashed it. That's right."
Mum called. She misses us. But she's coming home tomorrow morning! Hooray! That means Jason won't be in charge of me anymore!
Shane rolled on the floor like a manic. I'm starting to question his sanity.
Tuesday September 26
Mummy's home! I'm so excited! I texted her and she said she'll chat with me on Facebook at noon.
Heh. Someone wrote "fuck my pussy" on my desk and I almost died of laughter. They left a phone number, too. Maybe I'll call it.
Just kidding. That's gross.