The Fall Of A Lifetime

And The World Crashes Down Again

Dear stupid, tragic, traumatizing life... FUCK YOU! I seriously hate everything that's happening right now. New parents, new home, new city, new school. So who are you going to place in my life for me to get attatched to only to have them ripped away this time? First you shove my parents off a skyscraper then you kill my brother...

Seriously life fuck you! I have no friends anymore thanks to your little mind games. Why couldn't I have been born one of those perfect little rich girls that are forced into the pageant life the moment they start walking? Oh wait... I was. What happened? I could have been just another stuck up snoughty bitch with designer cloths and expensive shoes. Why did I have to be the one you chose to change? Why did I have to lose it all? Once again, life; Fuck You... Just... Fuck you... 

"Welcome to your new home, Winni. It is a pleasure to have you here. Please, if it's not too painful for you, don't think of me as your foster mom, think of me as your mother, likewise with your new dad," Linda Penniiweather, my new foster mother, welcomed me with a hug, a smile, and a fresh batch of double chocolate hockey pucks. She showed me to my bedroom, bringing the hockey pucks with her. It was small. My closet would not fit all of my designer cloths and the walls wouldn't be nearly big enough for all my posters. There was no view of a beautiful light sand beach or a bright and colorful city. The best I could see was the wall of the appartment next to the house, covered in graffiti and what appeared to be uncooked eggs. I threw the cookies - Hockey pucks - out the window. They did not break, nor chip, nor shatter. They were completely intact. 

"Umm... You may not be aware but I'm a rather high class girl. I have 55 million dollars worth of pageant tiaras and trophies and they will not fit in this room. They're in the second truck on it's way here and frankly I suggest you find a proper room in witch to display them in a glass case that will be permanently locked from everyone but me. Perhaps I could put them in the room next door along with some of my designer outfits and the child who is staying there can share with another one of your lower class children," My diva shawn right threw my adorable smile. Mr. Penniiweather looked shocked and disgusted. 

"Hun, I do realize before your mom and dad passed you were living a lot higher up on the food chain but here you don't have that advantage. You'll just have to adjust. Oh, and the room next door already has three girls staying in it. You're lucky you only have to share you're room with one," 

"One... One... You mean I have to share my room?! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?! I AM A HIGH CLASS VERY WEALTHY WOMAN! I would rather die than share a room!" 

"To be honest those are basically your two options right now. We don't have to let you stay here. We could easily just tell you to get out of our home and send you out into the streets. What are you going to do? Huh? Share a room or go die?" 

I growned, "That still doesn't solve the space problem.."

"Well, we can sort through your cloths and put the ones that are out of season in the basement and leave the ones you'll wear right away in your room. Happy?" 

"Sure.." I was in no way happy. Being a little pageant girl like the ones you'd see on Toddlers & Tiaras I never learned the definition of sharing. I had never just been called Winni, that I could actually remember. I was home schooled by our maid Abella. She spoke a lot of english, however she prefrerred to speak spanish most of the time so she tought it to me and we would speak it behind my parents back's so they wouldn't know our secrets.  She always called me Princessa Winni, witch means Princess Winni. From the age of three I demanded everyone call me Princessa Winni so they did. Just Winni is rather odd and unusual to me. 

"¿No tenemos una criada por aquí o tengo que desempacar las maletas a mí mismo?Dios, ¿dónde está Abella cuando la necesitas?" ("Do we have a maid around here or do I have to unpack my bags myself? God, where is abella when you need her?!) Silence.... They would not respond, most likely because they did not understand. They claimed to be fluent in Spanish but that was bull shit. 

"Es jodidamente idiotas inmaduros!" (You fucking immature idiots!) I was not impressed. They lied aout speaking my language, they don't have a made and they wouldn't even let me hire Abella. Why couldn't she just move in with me in our old house? She's practically my second mother anyways and she understands me and I have like 50 billion dollars from my parents fortune that they left me with!

I came stampeeding down the stairs "Pensé que habías dicho que entiende español! ¿Por qué me mientes de esa manera? Y yo prefiero que se llama la princesa Winni! Quiero contratar Abella por mí mismo con mi propio dinero, así que no tiene que transferir a la escuela pública o usted saben, trabajar! Si usted no respeta mis deseos me gustaría que se trasladóde nuevo en mi propia casa, con Abella!" ("I thought you said you understand Spanish! Why would you lie to me like that? And I prefer to be called Princess Winni! I want to hire Abella for myself with my own money so I do not have to transfer into public school or you know, work! If you don't respect my wishes I would like to be moved back into my own home with Abella!")

"We understand Spanish perfectly fine we were just ignoring you. Your immature diva demands will not be tolerated in this house and social services will not allow you to live with Abella. As for schooling you will be attending Henry Wise Wood Senior High School and if you don't like that then that's too bad. As for your parents money that is put away in a savings account for you to use only for when you absolutely need it. Other wise your poor just like the rest of us!" Mrs. Peniiwether told me. "Oh, and I suggest you start unpacking because dinner will be ready in half an hour and then we have to take you out to get more school appropriate cloths.