Lost Girls


Dear Diary,


I took a trip to Venice. I deserved it.


Yes, it was on a whim and yes, I said I would be more careful with money—but that’s exactly the problem! Since I started being “careful” I’ve been living like a Puritan. I even turned down offers to go out so I can save money and pay off the last bit of my student loans (that last 5k is a bitch, let me tell ya). All this is to say that I undoubtedly and most deservedly (if that’s a word) earned my week-long get away.


But this entry isn’t about me.


Two days ago, I linked up with a promoter (they’re everywhere), and we went to a party. It was fun, normal I’d say, until I noticed this girl in the corner. She was messed up but that’s not why I walked over to her and shook her out of her stupor; I couldn’t tell how old she was.


“22”, she mumbled. Which could have been true, and it could have been a lie. I’ve been told I looked 22 since I was 17 and, ironically, once I hit 22 everyone assumed I was 18. Regardless I offered her cab fare so she could make it home and she shook her head,


“No, I’m staying with LIVE tonight” and she motioned to the graffiti artist in the corner. He nodded at me. She went back to her nap and I went back to the rest of the party.

I hope she made it home okay.


DiaryNuni SnowdenComment