Good morning, dearest nobody,
In my book, there is a name for nothing—Perdita. I shall call you all Perdita, since I’m confident there is no one reading these wonderfully okay written blogs. Probably only interesting to someone who’s stalking me, mean people from my old school, or my future self.
Anyways!!! I’m enjoying my coffee from the comfort of my room. Yippee. Only because my father is upstairs. He tries to connect with me, which is fine—I just can’t in the mornings. I just want to sit in peace and quiet. Though, I suppose it isn’t morning for him; it’s 11:39 a.m. Oh well.
To be completely honest, I don’t know why I’m writing these. Maybe it’s a way of avoiding writing in my dad’s journal, which I still haven’t done. Maybe I’m expecting this to become some kind of life-changing realization—like, how I’ve been living is wrong and I need to change. But, like, obviously I need to. I know I do, and there isn’t really any excuse for why I haven’t. I just haven’t.
At least writing these, I feel like someone might care? Or maybe I’m just a mysterious girl writing letters for someone to find someday. So magical and awesome, yeah!
Goodbye, Perdita.
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