Dear Diary,
Another year, another first day argument. Connor was high… again. Mom did nothing about it… again.
How many times are they gonna let him do this? They have no clue how to deal with him — how to get him to listen. Not that I do either, but at least if he’s screaming at me, that means he sees me. He isn’t interested in sorting himself out; he’d rather live his life high as a kite, completely unaware of the bullshit he puts on everyone else.
Dad is just as useless, face buried in his phone all morning, droning on about traffic — only thinking about his own day.
Some naive part of me hoped that this year would be better. That the camp Connor spent his summer at would have actually helped. That Dad would look up long enough to realise what he’s missing. That Mom could hold her own and actually be a parent.
Like I said… Naive.
I met someone new today. Well, not new, I guess, I’ve seen him around. Evan. I wouldn’t have even noticed him if Connor hadn’t been terrorising him, really.
He’s weird. Says too many words without really saying anything. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the word ‘jazz’ come out of someone's mouth so many times in one sentence, and I literally spend every Tuesday evening with a bunch of band geeks.
He’s kinda cute though. In a dishevelled, not sure where he fits in the world kind of way. And the talking thing is a little endearing, if I’m being honest.
He had a cast on. I wonder what happened. Maybe fell off his bike or something? I didn’t sign it. Kind of wish I did. Maybe it would have been nice to have some sort of connection with him.
Is that weird? That’s probably weird. If anyone reads this, they’re gonna think I’m just as much of a loser as he is. I’m not. At least, I don’t think I am.
I can never really tell where I fit in at school. Most girls aren’t bothered with me — I guess I don’t like the same stuff they do. And the guys don’t come near me either. That’s probably for the best. Connor would probably threaten to kill any guy who came near me.
Maybe I’ve got more in common with Evan than I think.
Well. This is depressing.
Tomorrow might be better. I have to keep believing that. Someone in this family does.
Sincerely, Zoe Murphy