Rosalie's Diary | H.S

one

When birds start to sing and the ocean starts to turn into a pit of despair will the night still be dark? Because when her family starts to scream and the house turns  into an uproar of profanities and abuses she still isn't sure if the night is dark or if it's simply dimmed by the roar of beasts downstairs.

Stars barely shine and the moon is simply not there. She stares out of her window, desperately searching for a speck of light in this world and yet she sees none. Finds none. Isn't sure if she'll ever find the light.

A few moments pass and she's still searching, standing by the window, gazing out into the field of...well a modern world. The street is lit by rows of street lamps and it's empty. The neighbourhood's lights are all turned off. Every house is dark, still here's the house of Salazar's, alive and bright and brimming with noise. Family drama. Rosalie wonders if the neighbours curse them out for being so loud in the witching hours of the night or if they just sleep with no care. Perhaps they had restructured their walls to be noise proof long ago. Although she doubts it, because come morning a few neighbours find the decency to complain and her mother politely sends them off. Or in her mother's words "sends them to hell". Indeed she does. Does so with "beautiful" words.

Sighing she turns around and plummets onto the side of her bed. Sinks down and sits on the polished wooden floorboards, picks her diary from under her bed and starts writing.

Diary,

I wonder if they ever get tired by their own ridiculousness. Wonder if they ever realize how small are their problems. How meaningless are their bankruptcy, as they like to call it. Although I highly doubt they're going exactly bankrupt since our family has mountains of money. Or perhaps they don't and it's rather logical that they're panicking. Or maybe, just maybe they're exaggerating, making an elephant out of a fly. They usually love to do so.

And apparently they love to control their children and still my brother is downstairs basking in the family drama or either getting verbally abused and here I am. In my room basking in my own solitude. Not that I'm complaining. Though I'd like to be somewhere else. Perhaps the hidden garden down by the lake? Don't really know.

I was there the other day and well, I had a quite decent evening. Why evening? I'm not allowed to be out past 7pm.

Still haven't found that speck of light. I keep searching. Desperately even. It's not up there. It's not the stars that barely shine or the lights ahead. I so wish to be gone. Lost.

- Rosalie