by achrilock
From the diary of Paula Vigil, 2044
March 3, 2044
This is stupid. I’ve never been one for keeping journals or really even for thinking about what I think about. Who has time for that now? I’m working two and half jobs and raising a kid besides! I’m lucky to even have the work, honestly. I couldn’t feed Christina without it. I don’t even feel like doing this tonight. She just stopped crying and I need to sleep while there’s a little quiet. But the doctor says that I won’t feel any better until I get this out of my system. Doctor… pfft… Volunteer health worker from Atlanta coming down here to the coast to save the drowning from drowning again. I don’t even know if he was a doctor. He looked like he was about fifteen years old. But that’s to my eyes which isn’t saying a whole lot I suppose.
I tried to get him to prove that he was, asked him for somethin’ to just fix me, make me forget that I went crazy before and then that I was crazy enough to tell somebody about it. I was afraid they would take Christie away if anybody found out, but it bothered me so much that I couldn’t not get myself checked on. She’s got a daddy who’s disappeared and a momma who’s never around, she lives in a piece of paper stretched over a box of matches, and now if it ain’t the damnedest thing her ceiling’s started leaking in there. Maybe I can get it fixed before she’s old enough to notice. That creep who rents us this shithole ain’t gonna do it. I got nowhere else to take her, though. There ain’t nowhere else to go for us that’s running from the ocean.
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