BSB 23/02/1987 Monday

BSB 23/02/1987 Monday

Three days without Fabiane… Before it was three months and I didn’t miss her because I knew I could see her whenever I wanted. It’s been three days since I last saw her and I miss her because I can only see her in photos. I spent the weekend at home. On Saturday whenever I stopped I cried. I had a really horrible dream from Weds/Thurs last week, I had even told Faiga about it on Thursday. I dreamt I was in the school’s toilet and I was really high, because I had sniffed loló. I was feeling its effects: the ears buzzing, head flying. Suddenly I felt my head throbbing and an incredible sensation, I think it was real, such a pain in my cranium and I couldn’t breathe, I really felt it. I was dying in my dream because I couldn’t breathe, my heart was racing , head out of my body. It was a very real dream. In the dream, after being unconscious, I woke up, felt better and went back to the classroom. Last night I remembered the dream, I dreamt it the day before Fabiane died and I realised the connection between the two. I think I felt what she felt before she died, except with me it was all imaginary, with her it was real. I woke up, she died…

I’m going crazy, I can’t stand my mum. Today, home was a battlefield. Simply because we don’t have a maid. She says: clean your room, clean your dishes, and she does the same. What about the rest of the house? Because she’s lazy and doesn’t clean anything I end up doing it. Madam makes a mess, doesn’t clean anything and then complains I don’t do things exactly when she wants it… I feel like a frustrated housewife and I’m only 15 years old. I don’t want to be like this after I marry, let alone before! I get really annoyed and I complain. She says: “I put money in here, I study a lot, I’m not doing domestic work.” Nice! As if I didn’t do anything, right? It takes me 40 minutes to clean the whole house, wash the dishes, mop the kitchen and utility area, dust and tidy up the wardrobe. And madam student/worker can’t even do the kitchen or living room. It feels like she hates her home, she doesn’t lift a finger. These daily things are so irritating. It’s like she’s the sexist husband and I’m the housewife and everything I do at home is a joke, a past time. I think I know exactly what marriage is like.