March 6, 2019

I used to think that life was simple, like black and white, good or bad. There's no in-between, no grey area where you can be both lucky and unlucky or good and bad at the same time. I mean, it just doesn't make sense to me. But who knows, maybe I'm wrong.

Anyway, I have another theory: I'm pretty unlucky. After Ola's mom said I was a bringer of bad luck, things just got worse. I remember sitting in the living room one day, buried in a book, while my parents were out. They always stressed the importance of education, so I couldn't be caught slacking off.

But the thing is, most of the stories I read were tragedies. It was like the universe was trying to tell me that my life was going to be full of misery and heartache. And maybe it's true, because ever since that day, things have gone downhill.

So, I've got this theory about life: it's kind of hypocritical to complain about tragedy when you're in the middle of one yourself, but sometimes you just need to read something that's not all sad and depressing, you know?

Anyway, I was in the middle of one of my crying sessions after finishing yet another sad book about a boy who lost his mom and was mistreated by his stepmom when my parents walked in. And let me tell you, my dad's voice was just...dead. It sent chills down my spine. But that was nothing compared to what he said next.

He told me to pack my bags and get ready to go somewhere. Where? I had no idea. And honestly, I should have just run away from home then and there. But I was only twelve, so where would I even go?

The whole "pack your bags" thing was extra scary for me because just a week before, my dad had been sneering and cursing at me non-stop. So, naturally, I asked him where I was supposed to go. And my mom? She didn't say a word. Not one. She just stood there with puffy eyes and bad skin, looking sad and moody all the time. And she was always crying.

It was like she was just there to support my dad and whatever evil plan he had in store for me.

I used to think life was simple, but now I know better. My parents didn't want me in their lives anymore, and I could tell by their actions. It was like they were pushing me away, and it hurt me so much.

I packed my bags, tears streaming down my face as I grabbed my diary. I've always loved documenting my life, and I needed to get this down on paper. I knew it was all Mrs. Baba's fault - Ola's mother. She planted a seed of doubt in my parents' minds, and they believed I was possessed by an evil spirit.

My parents are so gullible sometimes. They think they can wash their problems away just by fasting and praying. So, when they decided I needed deliverance, I knew things were going to get worse.

That day, my dad disowned me. He kept shouting, telling my mom that I wasn't his daughter. It was like they wanted me out of their lives. And then they handed me over to someone I didn't even know - the pastor.

I begged and cried, but it only made things worse. My dad hit me over and over again, and when my mom tried to intervene, he even hit her. It was like they had lost their minds.

I didn't want to go to the pastor's house. He was creepy, and I knew he had a sick attraction to teenagers. But my dad didn't care. He dragged me into the car, and we drove away from our home.

The pastor's house was big and spacious, but that didn't matter. I would rather stay in our moldy apartment than be in the house of a man who couldn't be trusted.

It's like I'm cursed or something. Nothing ever goes right for me.