My Mother

January 31, 1990 | Tacoma | Age 12

Dear Diary,

My mother has always been a worrier. About her looks, about dad, and Quincey, and me, and just about everyone. She rushes, likes to always be on time. But on her good side, she's very clever, lovely, excellent taste, kind, humouros [sic], and I love her dearly. XOXO

Today in school, one of the pop girls commented on how Martin and I looked cute together. Ba Humbug! I have no desire to 'go' with him, but only to remain good friends. (Or do I?)

Well, goodnight future, home work must be done.

*

People say that the earth has improved over the years. Not I. Though I would be content anywhere [little star]

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