The journal of a half vampire girl
My mother had many rules and restrictions in her house. I followed them once because I too agreed they were necessary. But now I'm nineteen it's unreasonable to ask me to come home the moment the sun goes down. As I said before I'm nineteen I want to get drunk and get felt up by some guy I'm too nervous to actually talk to.
I'm suppose to be well spoken, mature, all in all a true mothers daughter but I'm not. My mother calls me Elizabeth, everybody else calls me Zooey. I don't know why they just do and I kind of like it. It's freespirited, nice.
So here I am writing in my jornal. My mother delated my blog Fushiablood somethinbg...something... dot com. So here I am writing on prehistoric paper and pen. I hide it under my bed when I hear her walk by. But she is only going to the linen closet. Laundry day.
I'm not suppose to question this. But I do. Here on paper at least. i want to know what it would be like to see moon outside of my window. I don't want to be injected with garlic or to pretend I'm anemic. I just want what other girls want.