Dear Agenda
Uhh, well, how should I start this? Uh, how lame, very uncool. Basically, I'm Soul Evans. I'm currently 12, next month will be 13.
This torn shitty book is what you sappy romance novel induced people call a diary. But for me, it'll be so uncool to call this shabby book as a diary, so I'd prefer to call it agenda. And my dear readers, I only do this not because I want to, but someday, my parents will find me (or I'm being forced to meet my parents again) and they'll definitely need every juicy detail that I have during my missing years.
Oh, I forgot to mention. I was fuckingly annoyed with my parents' behavior yesterday, and I snapped. I ran away from them. Knowing that I have my weapon gene, so, here I am, writing in this torn agenda in Death City airport. I admit this airport is freakin' way cooler then in Britain. This airport's got things that you rarely see in normal places and I'm pretty amazed that beneath the dusty desert of Nevada, there is a very cool city like this. This airport has got tons of skulls all over it and a very weird, old statue of a big black glob wearing a skull-shaped mask. He is creepy and he looks mean. Probably he was one of the national heroes that find this city. Maybe, but I have never seen him before.
I find doing this pretty stupid. Oh yes, a 12 year old boy writing something in his notebook-just like a girl. I just can't wait to get to Shinbusen and get the damn out of this freakin airport. It is cool to be here, but people keep sneaking glances to me. Probably they have recognized me as an Evans. Hell yeah, no one else in this world have natural white hair except for Evans, and albinos.
I just hope shits don't happen.