:)Wow, I haven't update in like a million years. Marching Band really does take over your life. I'm working on the ending of most of my stories so expect a few updates coming up soon! Thanks for reviewing but you must do it or I shall stop writing from a broken heart! ;)
Disclaimer- Don't own 'em.
Summary- Slash, thats all I have to say!
Spot Conlon. There isn't much to say about him. He's perfect, and that's that. He's an athlete, the best on the baseball and soccer team. He's gorgeous, and he has the most amazing eyes. The only problem is, I'm in love with him and he has no idea that I even exist.
Last year he was in my Lit class. I like lit, I'm good at lit. I was so excited at the beginning of the year, "Maybe he's bad and I could tutor him." Well that didn't go exactly as I had planned. Not only is he good at sports and good looking but he's smart as anything. Well not as smart as me, but pretty damn close. It surprises people how good I am, but even though I may not speak with correct grammar all the time, I can write it. Which is how this started whole thing started. I guess mom thought I had a lot of built up feelings inside because about 3 months ago she came home with a journal. It was brown leather and had a small strap that buttons over. At first I didn't know what to do with it.
Every time I would actually think about sitting down and writing in it, I felt stupid. "Dear Journal?" That's how entries are normally started, am I right? But who is this Journal, not a person, no. It's an inanimate object. So I decided that it was quite stupid to write to an inanimate object like it was a real person. So for a month it sat on my desk, collecting dust. Now that I think about it, this all could have easily been prevented if I had taken like ten minutes and studied for that damn Spanish test. Fucking preterite verbs. Anyways, I was a little pissed off because that was like the ninth Spanish test I'd failed in like the past month. I came home and slammed the door, unfortunately that knocked over one of mom's little glass thingy's. I never actually found out what I broke, considering the way things have been going lately it was probably the freaking cross. So let's just say mom was a little pissed, well she sent me to my room which added to my anger A LOT. So in the process of me screaming into my pillow and throwing things across the room I accidentally knocked something off my desk.
When I looked over to see what it was, there was the journal just staring me in the face. So I did what any enraged teenager would do, I threw it on the ground and stomped on it a few times. Once I was done with that I picked it and wrote some pretty nasty things about Senora Rivera. Or as I had kindly written 'The fucking whore bag who wouldn't know Spanish if one of her fuck buddy students shoved it up her ass.' Or something like that. And to be completely honest, it felt nice, just venting like that. So I continued to write things and it always made me feel better.
Eventually it became less venting and more just talking. Yes, I Anthony Higgins had done it, I'd reached that pathetic point where the journal became more than paper. With the normal talking came what I normally talk about, yes it does make sense, I do understand that. But what I normally talk about is Spot Conlon.
PLEASE REVIEW! I'LL DO SHOUTOUTS I PROMISE!