The Honey Diaries - Bubba's Book - Numb

Bubba slept soundly that morning, while his grandmother caressed his face and hair. The day was going to be hard, sober. One of those we never want to have. While the grandmother was kissing her grandson goodbye, Mrs. Kelley called his school to report his absence in the coming days. After that the two went out together to solve the relevant paperwork to the deaths of Mrs Lewis son and daughter in law.

The Honey Diaries - Bubba's Book - Hurricane

A door slammed in the entrance of number 256 Minot Street in Dorchester, South Boston. Bubba, the boy who had entered, had a deep cut on his lower lip, some other scratches and welts on the body, blood in the eye and a wounded pride. That's when his mom came from the kitchen and asked: 

- What happenned, son? 

Bubba was mad, and took it all on his mom... He started to scream and talk fast.

- WHAT HAPPENNED??? WE MOVED! People here DON'T like me. I am the hillbilly from Georgia here. People here are superb, disgusting ... Why couldn't we stay in Statesboro?

Cold Water - The Matter of Faith 01

Faith. This word can mean several things. And it is exactly because of this that many of us end up not finding any of their meanings. In what you have faith? I was raised in a Catholic home. Despite part of the family practicing Buddhism, I was placed in a Catholic school, and educated at Masses. My mother made ​​me believe that angels exist, God controls everything, and always want our good, even when we do everything wrong. For He is our Father, and that's how good fathers are. I grew up believing that miracles exist. Even with all the madness and unhealthiness of my home. Everything went wrong. But, somehow, we were led to believe that God had intervened in some way for things to go right in the end. And when it did not work out, well then it was a punishment, for what we had done wrong. 

Let me get started.

O.K... Never thought I would expose myself that way. But I decided, after some emotional ups and downs, I should begin to express whatever fills my mind. I am a dreamy person, and this has caused many problems. The only real relief I've had in relation to the crazy ideas that I have, was starting to write a diary that eventually, for security reasons, became something no longer about me, but a fictional story of a world far away from mine. I was a pre-teen when I started. Over time, I developed the capability of writing (though not so sure of being so good), and the stories, previously written to ease the burden I felt, somehow began to entertain a few friends of mine, whom I gave access to the diaries. That's how I started.