- Optional filter - |
- Optional filter - |
1. Noise, sound; it all irritates me to the point of making me angry. Just one more hour and forty-two minutes before it all stops, before freedom takes hold of me like a fledgling leaving its nest after a storm. But the last few hours are the worst because of their hunger for popularity, their desire to comment on tomorrow without living in the present, and their need for boys, especially for Carmen Presley-Fincher: a blonde for whom everything comes easily (even schoolwork), while I'm brunette, pale with brown eyes, so only grades sustain me, but in both senses of the word: music and schoolwork. Excuse my rudeness, my name is Lili-Rose, and despite being 17 and a half, I'm an orphan with 11 half-siblings, none of whom I've had since I arrived last year. I'm gifted and immunocompromised, I survived an aneurysm at age 9, and my parents died 13 months ago at a concert. Going to see an obscure reggae band and having drug-addicted friends don't mix. I was staying with my cousin Caroline, with whom I had a falling out, and she harassed me for six months (oddly enough, along with Carmen, as if by chance), and I've never had any friends or even boyfriends. Lili-Rose Coveilght's Journal At that moment, I was thinking back to what I had first written in the journal that Aunt Myriam gave me a year ago, but at the same time, Carmen and her gang of brats dressed as Barbies pushies me. *** Sorry for myself I'm french. |
 |
 |
