#skyeya

[skyeyaga]

My Story: Diego

“Who are you?” That’s the question everyone asks me before they talk to me. I have to ask myself that more often, who am I? I don’t really know who I am, all I know is that my name is Diego Mateo Martinez and I’m a 13-year-old boy who is average-looking, not your basic boy model. I was born in Barcelona, Spain- but that’s all I really know about myself. I have green eyes which are unique I guess but people call me cat-eyes so I guess it’s a bad thing. I have messy brown hair that I never bother to brush because what’s the point? I live in New York City in America and I am an orphan adopted into a foster family who aren’t that lovely…“Idiot!” My foster father shouts at me, he’s a plump man with an ugly moustache who has a temper of a boiling teapot. His name? Charles Smith, but I have to call him Mr. Smith. Why is he shouting at me you ask? Because I made too much noise turning the pages of my favorite book- a Series of Unfortunate Events. He thinks reading is for fools but I just think he says that because he’s not smart enough to understand half of those words. “Diego! Stop reading! Put that book down and start cleaning the bathroom!” Bellowed a higher and falsetto voice. That would be Clara Smith, Charles nasty wife. She may look like she would be a nice and sweet woman… She’s not. You might think that cleaning the bathroom isn’t that bad, it’s worse than that if this couple has a lot of stomach troubles, if you know what I mean. 

My eyes follow the brush going forward and back, again and again... Wait a minute, I don’t think you really need to know how you clean a bathroom, so let’s just skip to when my night truly begins.

Every night, ever since I was six-years-old I would wait till my horrid foster parents would finish drinking their troubles away and go to bed, then I would get out of my “I’m sleeping-but not really” position. As soon as I flip the blanket off me, you can see that I’m wearing a hoodie and some jeans. I then would tiptoe across the small bedroom and open the door quietly to exit the room. I walk to the front door of the house and I just leave to walk around the crowded city. When I’m roaming around the city, there’s always these shadowy figures just lurking in the alleyways while smoking cigarettes, while every now and then they blow a puff of smoke in the air. I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking that I’m one of those guys. I can assure you, I’m not. I don’t care about all those people, I actually go and take a peek into all the stores. You know those really fancy stores with nice things? That’s what I look at. Then I look into the restaurants that are still open around this time of the night, often there are these families just eating a pleasant meal together. Sometimes, I would just sit outside the restaurant and watch them for hours wishing for the loving and wonderful family I never got to have. I mean, I’m grateful and all that I live under a roof and I at least get something to eat- even if it is scraps from Mr. and Mrs. Smith. I just imagine that I’m a part of one of the families I watch sitting in those restaurants. And no, I’m not a stalker, I’m simply just observing them. I was just enjoying my view of the restaurant until he came along… 

Look out for Chapter 2 next Friday!! 

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