Sunday, September 9, 2018

A Callous Teen Bears Witness


To prove that I am no saint Charlotte brings me low.

August 2, 1969  Two things have happened to Charlotte while I was supposed to be taking care of her.  On Thursday she burnt her fingers, not too bad, but bad enough to keep her screaming for 75 minutes. You see I had gone downstairs with hr and was talking to Jeanette. Then I noticed Charlotte was gone so I went upstairs. I was on the top step when I saw the reflection of fire on the oven door.  I ran in and screamed to my mother that Lotte had a kool-aide bag on her fingers and it was on fire. (My mother had her back turned to Lotte). I was petrified and shaking all over. Then today Lotte fell down the steps and got a cut above her eyebrow. It wasn’t even bad, hardly even bleeding.  Both times my mother blamed me. When Lotte fell down the steps I was on the top and Charlotte was ½ way down. I couldn’t of stopped her from falling but try and convince my mother. Sometimes I wonder if she hates me and I think I hate her. But at night I pray to God to help me be nice to her. I love her when I’m not near her but when I am I irritate her. I hope my children never hate me even when they’re angry.
NOTE: I can’t help laughing at myself and how insignificant I make Charlotte’s sufferings. It’s all about me.  I remember quite vividly that Charlotte had huge blister bubbles on at least 3 fingers for some time after the fingers were burned.  Apparently blood coming from her brow left me unfazed. 
On a different note, for quite some time in the diary I use “of” when I should be saying “have” or “”could’ve” or “would’ve”.  I even used it in my English essays and Mr. Kennedy never corrected me!

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