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?

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.