it's floey's private diary!

 






      part 1

      part 2

      part 3

      part 4

FloeysDiary Floey's Happy Face FloeysDiary Floey's Happy Face FloeysDiary

floey's private diary - part 3



Sunday, June 29 12:45 p.m.
Dear New and Improved Floey of Days Yet to Come,
        What is the matter with that woman? How can she call herself a mother? Okay, so Wen was never really my boyfriend. So what? She doesn't know that. In fact, I told her very clearly that he was. When is she going to even mention him? She seems to have no idea that I am deeply depressed. Doesn't she notice all the moping around I've been doing? When will I enjoy some motherly sympathy? It's been four whole days since Wen dumped me, and still she hasn't even asked about him!
        The sad thing is, the longer she waits to ask, the guiltier she's going to feel when she finds out. Until she does, though, I'm certainly not going to tell her!
        Okay, so I'm taking deep breaths and summoning a Zen calm. I need to meditate on ridding my system of Wen.
        More deep breaths.
        What would a real Zen master do?
        I need to channel myself toward Calvin and the new, improved me. I need to release my negative energy and concentrate on the important task at hand.

        beautiful calvin
        where are you going tonight?
        when will I find you?

Monday, June 30 6:40 a.m.
Dear Floey of the (Hopefully) More Just and Peaceful Future,
        I hardly slept at all.
        Just because mother dearest insists on letting long-lost family members stay in my house for two weeks, why does that mean I have to share my bedroom with a ten-year-old cousin I havenít seen in years?
        Tish snores like some large animal fighting for its life. Like an angry walrus maybe, or a dying caribou. It wouldn't be so bad if the rhythm were regular and predictable, but it's not. Every now and then she goes totally quiet for a really long time, and then just when I'm wondering if she's dead she suddenly gasps for air, scaring me so I practically jump out of bed. How am I supposed to get any rest through all that? It's like medieval torture! Worst of all, at the unholy hour of six in the morning, just when I finally fall asleep, she hops out of bed and stomps around the room until she finds my nice comfortable robe and puts it on. Then she heads out to watch TV. So now I'm awake again! Honestly, it's unbearable!

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