Sept. 23, 2012
Dear Diary,
I honestly forgot about you, until I stepped on you. You hurt like a bitch. Why the fuck are your edges so pointy?
I feel kind of stupid for writing to a diary as though it was a living, breathing person, listening to my story. But, whatevs. Personification is cool.
Tomorrow I start school. I can say with the utmost sincerity that I am not looking forward to it. New kids, new hallways, new teachers. My anxiety is at an all-time high. I bet they'll give me some deadbeat druggie to give me a tour, who will ditch out on me as soon as the principal leaves. Then I'll be fucked.
I didn't do much today other than worry and nearly impale my foot on you. I think that was a sign from the Gods, telling me to start writing in you daily.
Not really. Wishful thinking? If there were Gods, I don't think we would be where we are.
Let's hope I don't die tomorrow.
Sincerely,
Me.