Dear Diary,
It's the 3rd of February 2018, the luckiest page I get to touch after the longest time. Feels like I haven't written in ages. So rapid the mystical feather was found rubbing shoulders with your unique, bold, silhouettes, brown cover. Curling almost invisible in the middle of your golden words 'Her diary'. God, what am I saying, It's been only 48 hours you haven't grasp my inner voice ever since I took some time off.
Probably it's just a cheap fur, coughned by my sister's sweater bought at the fake Gucci store. She likes over spending on useless staff that one.
Hell no scratch that. I didn't mean to say them. Please don't get me wrong, I'm not scolding my sister or anything. Although it looks like I can't bottle things up anymore. Not today and especially not with you too
The truth is I'm not okay. I'm not okay at all that's why I couldn't write to you my diary. If I say I was overworking at the Hotel at these couple of days, way exhausted to lift a pen and write to you, I'd be lying. Perhaps I say, I got too distracted with my house chores and applying for an internship hasn't been easy so I was stressed? I'll be definitely lying.
I'm so not okay and not lifting a pen to write to you was the only way to distinguish what eating me. Infact I'm stll very pissed, I'm not even pissed I'm livid. The tolerance to bare a smile at my sister's fiance has finally reached my wits end. Yes, you heard me, my sister's fiance 'Silver',
Everytime, everytime I look at that limp my intenstines curls and shrinks away making me lose my appetite for the rest of my day. The audicity he had today to sideline my grocery list. Just because! he thinks my food was not healthy at all. Apparently it had no calories, no low cholesterol and certainly no proteins.
And so the almighty Silver preached to me that I'm the unhealthiest being that he has ever lived with. Talking about the grocery list that was harshly worth $200. I bought! with my hardworking money of sweats, blood and tears.
Waitressing good for nothing wealthy people, who can't even give me a decent tip but busy laughing about their rich lives. Over a lousy cup of tear and their upgraded oysters nourished with expensive Olive oil.
Where would I be than? Standing on a sidewalk, waiting for them to finally order. Hungry like a deserted animal to serve 'The most fortunate'.
The food that He– does not contribute in. Except willingly okay to flash, his credit card to my older sister. Like his some dumb first time player that thinks he has to throw a bone for her and say “Catch!” like a dog. In order to sustain their love affair.
It's all clear to me that he doesn't even know the word 'investment'. As if he doesn't think his parents ever worked hard for what he has. Geez, shitty spoilt, wealthy kids who's only leeching off the easy inheritance.
The fact that we all chained to call him 'Silver' as his last name. It ties the knots in my stomach and actually wants me to gag right at his black HUGO BOSS formal shoe. And now we suffering because hey! Mr. owns a potion to one of the biggest Retailing and Services company worldwide.
Speaking about a dumb, airheaded, 24 year old who was possibly busy galavanting with the youth like other teenagers. Experimenting pots and weed. One day he happened to recieve the inheritance that fell at his lap and now he thinks it his intellectual two useless cents that placed him up there.
And oh I hate how he has turned my sister into a snob.
“Becca let's go and eat at the twelve stars Cafe, Becca carry my credit card It's so heavy. Becca pick any dress you like. Becca this, Becca that and oh, Becca I'm so glad that I rejected all the temptations, now I'll have my first child with you”
'I'll gag silently' It's like he thinks his a moistured vegetable that is untouched and pure. And everytime his hands lift to stroke his brunette hair. Arg! I want to vomit. I don't even want to mention his animated smile. If you know that popular character named, Aladdin is definitely him. Jesus, it's 's a plain torture. The guy doesn't even brush his teeth I swear but he likes laughing and smiling for hours like a lunatic. A stinky breath it's what I inhaled everytime he greets me “The beautiful Kenyan from Africa” I'd roll my eyes everytime he glances elsewhere.
Even my fiance is close at being broke for trying to meet up with his standards just because he want's to impress his exploding ego. My poor Jake, always trying to impress others before himself. I don't even know why we are friends with him. When did he became to be part of our circle so quick in a short span of five months?
And the worst part is; that we all have to play happy families. Don't get me wrong I really love my sister very very much. We almost like identical twins. But this–this double wedding spirit? I don't see it happening.
Jesus Christ, Becca needs to see for who he really is. A flat broke loser who's disguising as a glistening billionaire. I cannot stop suspecting this. Who forgets his wallets twice! at his two first dates? I keep reminding my sister that something is so fishy with this guy but no! she keeps covering for him. He cannot just be a billionaire at 24. He knows nothing about money, trading, let alone few coins. As brainless as him and expect us to believe him?....
The keys shaffled at the door
Silver, pauses from reading as his ears picks up an afar sound of somebody penetrating something behind the door. His hands are even trembling, covered by the sweats from his quickening pulse. The way his temperature has risen you can swore his DNA was hiding the hyperhidrosis that he suffers merely from time to time. If you don't know him well, you'd say It was his condition.
He lifelessly sat there cannot comprehend. Just by picking up this weightless fifty pages of a small Notebook. He never knew what he was digging himself into, because it's certainly feels like it weighs seven hundred pounds on top of his hands right now and he cannot seem to escape any of it. He grasps so shakingly in his throat it's like he could barely transfer air like he normally does.
His conscious flees from him. Leaving his masculine body in his gym tracks into an empty conflicted jar, whistling a two million nothings in it. He hasn't been on a gym yet but his mixed emotions has consumed his energy like his been running eight kilometres afar from home. In so much disbelief, even his head couldn't care to lift and look.
Either way he was already done reading the rest of that page as he continuosly sat there. Speechless, scanning the words repeatedly like it'll change the evidence of the writer's true colours.
