A/N: This has been in my head for like a month and I need to get it out. By the way this is totally an AU (Alternate Universe) story.

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 1:05 AM.

I've always been the one to be careless and tough. Ever since December 25, 1999, I've worn a mask. I still do. I hide myself behind a witty, sarcastic, confident, strong mask. Most people would think that it's not healthy, but hey, it's been ten years and I ain't dead yet so it must not be that unhealthy. Oh, I'm Miley, by the way. Miley Stewart. So, anyway...moving on.

The reason I bought this diary was not because it had a cute matching pen (which broke after I tried to pull the top off when it was the kind that twisted) or because it was lime green, my favorite color. No, I bought it so I'd have something to write my emotions down on, to have someone (even if that someone is an inanimate object) to explain my problems to. And believe me; I have a lot of problems.

For one, I'm in foster care. Yep, that's right. I'm in foster care. In ten years I've lived in 43 different families. Thats 43 different towns, with 43 different school systems, not to mention 43 different "moms" and 43 different "dads" and a heck of a lot of annoying "sisters" and "brothers". I didn't even care to make anymore friends, the fifth move I made convinced me that I would never be in one place for more than a years.

Sure, it's overwhelming, but it's my life. Switching from house to house. The funny thing is, out of all of those houses, only one has ever felt like my home.

You see, when you're in foster care, it's because either your parents didn't want you, you have no parents or guardians to look after you, or you are too old for adoption. I apply to all three. My dad left my my mom when I was one...he wasn't ready to take care of me at the age of 16. But my mom held in there...and then there was an accident. But I don't like to think about it.

My first home since the accident was with the Stephenson's. I was 6 and became attached to them. I loved them as if they were my biological parents. After one year I found myself being moved into a new family.

That was the second day of my life that I lost someone I loved. I had to let go one too many times, so I just figured that I should stop holding on.

I was then put into foster care. It never phased me until I turned 9 that I would be tossed around like a hot potato up to the day I turned 18. Last month I was taken in by a young couple, leaving the building owned by Miss Hegryt, I like to call her by her first name, Luci. Luci Hegryt has been my social worker ever since the day of the accident. She was the one who brought me to interviews for entering a new family, and she was the one who picked me up when I got kicked out of a family.

Yeah, I've been kicked out of families. It's not the best feeling in the world, but when you hear that you're "not what they're looking for" constantly, you get used to it.

So right now I'm in my most current bedroom in, yet a different town, Bayview, California with a population of 2,359. Lets just say that I have probably lived in almost every small town or village in California. Not my cup of tea.

It's not exactly fun when you've seen every type of Paris Hilton wannabe more than 43 times all in the state of California.

School starts tomorrow (actually today since it's like 1:30 AM crap)...joy. I can't wait to finally feel like I'm fitting in, only to be moved again. Hmm...maybe the new kid thats coming to live with us tomorrow will have gone through more hell than me so I can actually feel bad for someone else, rather then feel sorry for myself.

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 1:45 AM.

But then no matter what you get to a point where you stop feeling sorry for yourself. You realize no one's going to save you, so you have to save yourself. You turn your life around, not knowing where you're going, just knowing that you'll do anything, anything to be happy again.

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 1:50 AM.

Who am I kidding? I've felt sorry for myself ever since I was six and a half.

September 3, 2009. Cafeteria, 11:03 PM.

This school bites. It's like a world where the only thing people care about is sports, looks, popularity, and who hooked up with who.

Surprisingly the lunch is pretty good. Did I just admit that? Cheese fries. Not half bad.

I'm currently sitting with Lilly and Oliver (my foster siblings, apparently the home I'm in now, like collects kids?) at a table, surrounded by more crowded tables. The three of us get along pretty well, probably because we are all 16. But I'm smart enough not to get too attached and start calling them my best friends, before I know it I'll be packing up and on my way to a new family.

"So Miley how do you like Bayview High so far?" I looked up to see Oliver and Lilly looking at me expecting an answer. They have lived with Jen and Tom since they were each like 5. So to them it doesn't even seem as if they don't live with their biological parents, as if this is their hometown.

"Well Oliver, I've been to 43 schools before this one, you're gonna have to give me at least another day to tell you that I hate it." I replied and him and Lilly just faked a little laugh.

"She's funny isn't she, guys?" Lilly said to two other girls. Sam and Erica, I believe their names are.

They simply nodded and shared a look. I've seen that look before.

Told you I have problems. I can't help that I have a dry humor people just take it too seriously, so I thought I'd speak up. I rolled my eyes and smiled, "I was kidding..." I told them and chuckled once.

"I like it here. It's...nice." The four of them laughed, more convincingly this time. There we go.

It's now 11:10, time for History class.

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 3:15 PM.

I barely have homework. So I finished it all. I just had to cover a few books and get a few things signed by my foster parents. And the new kid showed up at the house today. I thought it was tomorrow...but it was today. And my god is he gorge...well I would erase that but it's in pen. Crap. I'm gonna regret that later. Anyways, his name is Nick.

I walked through the door with Lilly and Oliver they were arguing over something stupid, as usual. But I was used to it after knowing them a month, and they always made up after about an hour.

"I'm telling you Lilly, striped pudding is better then the regular kind." Oliver argued and threw his backpack on the couch, meanwhile Lilly was shaking her head in disagreement.

"Striped pudding? I mean what is that anyways?" She said and followed him up the stairs to their bedrooms.

"It's the kind with dark and milk chocolate..." Then I blocked their voices out of my head and walked straight to my own room. My room is downstairs along with Jen and Tom's room and an empty room. Mine was all the way at the end of the hallway, I picked it for a reason. It's the room that's deepest into the house, not to mention the smallest and it's got its own bathroom. There really is no need for me to have a big room. It's not like I have a lot of belongings. The only things I needed were clothes, guitar, and this diary.

Anyways, as I was walking to my room I noticed that the empty room's door was open and the light was on. I furrowed my eyebrows and backed up and peeked into the room. There was boy with shortish, curly, brown hair. He had his back to me, but he seemed to be shuffling around in a drawer.

I pursed my lips and dropped my bag on the ground, and walked into the room. He turned quickly to see where the noise came from.

"You know, it's polite to knock." He said and smiled at me. Man is he a cutie. I didn't bother to smile back, I just kind of kept walking in the room until I became about a foot away from him. He put his hand out, as if for me to take it and shake it. I ignored it and studied him.

His lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes were brown and penetrating right through me.

When he saw that I wasn't going to shake his hand, he drew it back and rubbed the back of his neck.

"So...you must be Miley?" He questioned hesitantly and placed both of his hands in his pockets.

I know it seemed as if I was being rude but this is what I'm like when I meet new people. I analyze them first, see if they are worth getting close to.

"How did you know that..." I said and looked around his room cautiously.

"Your necklace says Miley." Wow, did I feel like an idiot. How did I not remember that I was wearing it. My mom gave me the necklace when I turned 5, I've worn it everyday since. "Oh...right."

"I'm Nick, by the way." I nodded and glanced over to his bed, something caught my eye. Next to his bed was a guitar. A very nice, acoustic guitar. Well, we had one thing in common.

"So Nick, what's your story?" I asked him and walked over to his bed and picked up his guitar. Usually people would be mad that I was going through their stuff, but he didn't seem to care.

"What do you mean?" Ugh. This is gonna be hard if I have to translate everything to him.

"I mean," I started and strummed a chord on the guitar, I'm not gonna lie, that was a nice guitar. "Everyone in foster care has some type of story, for instance...me. I am a messed up teenage girl who nobody seems to want for more than three months." I told him and shrugged when I saw the look of sympathy flash through his eyes.

"Uhm," He looked down for a brief minute and back up at me. "Well, my parents died a few years ago and, here I am." I nodded and stood up, putting his guitar back into place. I would have said I was sorry, but to be honest. I hate when people tell me they are sorry. Like I need anyone else feeling sorry for me. I figured he felt the same.

"Well, nice to meet you, but I don't think we'll know each other for long." I told him honestly and walked to the doorway, about to pick up my bag.

"Whys that?" He questioned, stopping me in my tracks. I didn't turn to look at him, I just stared ahead of me at the hallway wall of pictures of Jen and Tom with Lilly and Oliver through the years.

I bit my bottom lip and and shook my head, letting out a short chuckle. "Like I said before, nobody ever seems to want me for more than three months." Then I picked up my bag and walked into my room, kicking the door closed behind me.

I covered my books and got Jen to sign those papers, Tom doesn't get home from work until around 7 every night. And that leads me to where I am now, writing in my diary.

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 7:45 PM.

Is it weird to suddenly be attracted to someone after not caring for anyone for 9 years?

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 7:52 PM.

Well that was a silly question. I am NOT attracted to anyone.

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 7:57 PM.

Seriously. I'm not. I'm just gonna go take a shower and recollect myself.

September 3, 2009. My current bedroom, 8:01 PM.

Even if he is incredibly cute and okay I should really stop now.

A/N: Wow that sucked, just ugh review? Lol please! I beg of you. I'm on my knees begging you people to review. Should I continue? I know the beginning sucked, but it will get better. I promise. x]

xoxo

-kelsie