Post by gracie paulina vanderbilt on Apr 17, 2010 22:36:37 GMT -5
gracie p. vanderbilt.
[/color][/size][/font]fifteen - nine - old money - kaya scodelario
I NEVER thought of myself as intelligent. Sure, I'm portrayed as just that by my clever parents, who always find a way to get around any and all problems that stand in their way. In all honesty, I'm pretty stupid. I was born on November 14, 1994. I was the last born of my parents' spawn, which I'm sure my parents were quite happy about. I don't remember much about my childhood. I was too preoccupied by the lavish gifts I was given with the jutting out and quivering of my bottom lip. I was easily the most spoiled, if only because I'm the youngest out of my siblings. I used to embrace it, the feeling of knowing that you can have anything you want, any time you want it. I used to love it, when I was ten. However, things change when you realize that you've had everything you ever wanted by the time you're twelve. By that time, you're bored with all the munificent gifts that your parents shower you with. Sure, it may be because I'm dumb. Maybe I've just never realized that there's more to money than I've discovered so far? But I don't think I'm wrong.
BY THE the time I was thirteen, I was horribly dissatisfied with my life. Money only buys so much, and by that point, I honestly thought that it couldn't buy anything I didn't already have. Then I discovered something that I'd never tried before and certainly nothing that my father would ever buy for me. Before long, alcohol and weed were consuming much of my free time. My parents, over the years, have become geniuses at concealing the true lives of us Vanderbilt children. But even then, when I was at the fresh age of thirteen, they had no idea what was going on. I kept my life so well hidden from the rest of my family that it was like all hell broke loose when they finally did find out. By then, it was too late. I was fourteen years old and three months pregnant when my parents, as well as my siblings, discovered just how stupid I really am. Up until that point in time, I had kept a fairly steady, good reputation. I did so-so in school, and I had never had a boyfriend. Well, I guess things didn't change much after I told my parents that I was knocked up. Of course, the baby was terminated, and eventually things went back to normal, but I haven't felt the same since then.
MY STORY isn't a sob story. I never felt empty after the abortion. I never felt like a part of me was missing after I had my unborn baby killed. It doesn't matter. Every morning, I wake up and I hate myself because of what I did. Before that moment in time, I was completely pro-choice. After that, I changed. There is not an hour that I don't think about and regret what was done, but what is there to do? I can't go back in time and change it. At the time, I had my family's reputation to protect. My parents have made it pretty clear that their reputation is one of the most important things in the world to them, just behind us of course. As lost as I feel, I wouldn't ruin my family if it was the last thing I ever did. I couldn't do that to them.
DIARY ENTRY DATED APRIL 4, 2009.
Hello, You.
If you're wondering if my day has been any different from any other day in the past year, then you're probably thinking that the answer is no. You're correct. I don't get fulfillment out of a few cigarette drags anymore. Maybe once, last year, I would have, but not today. Life just doesn't excite me anymore. I don't know if it ever really did. The money excited me. My father, all it took to win him over was always a little tear or a temper tantrum. He was either too preoccupied to worry about what worries a little girl has, or he knew i was just trying to milk as much money from him as possible. He's always been a very intelligent man, so I'm guessing that it's the latter. But you've only heard this story a million times before, so I'll move on. By thirteen, it was the rush of drugs and alcohol that kept me going. By fourteen, it was the two mentioned above plus sex. Then pregnancy happened, and then an abortion not long after that. I would do anything for my parents, but I can't look at them the same after what they made me do. How am I supposed to do that when I can't even look at myself? But enough of my woes. I don't know when I'll have time to write again, I'll be busy getting wasted, high, and screwing around with boys.
- Gracie.
shelle - sixteen - central - pm me for my msn if you want it.
