Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

So pookie, what can I say? Today was so exhausting. This morning I woke up 30 minutes late for school, but I mean... pretty girls are always late. And obviously, before even stepping into that depressing building, I had to get my sacred vanilla caramel frappuccino with extra sugar and whipped cream—priorities, duh.

But the moment I walked into class, that annoying old hag of a teacher started complaining, saying drinking in class is "disrespectful." Like girl, wake up. I become disrespectful without my coffee. Like, duh. 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, third period, a teacher called me up for an oral test. And well… it didn’t go great. But who cares? Latin is literally a dead language, and I do my best to keep dead vibes out of my life—unlike her, apparently. With all those bleach jobs and desperate dye attempts to cover her grays, her hair is so dead it’s basically decomposing. Tragic.

Math class? Boring. I slept through it. I don’t have time to listen to those things—the only numbers I care about are the ones on receipts when I go shopping on Sundays. And I mean, I don’t even need to calculate discounts—I never buy off-season pieces.

There’s this guy at school who, poor thing, actually thinks he has a chance with me. Like, really? You actually believe my standards are that low? Ugh, so annoying. 😩 But as long as he keeps showering me with attention and compliments, I’ll let him. After all, I AM the main character.