Dear Journal Thingy
Dear Journal Thingy,
Just so you know, I refuse to call this a diary. Diaries are for sissys.
So, today is Saturday and would you like to know where I am? In my room waiting for my dad to come home with my canned orange slices. Would you like to know why? Because I'm sick. I have a cold and I feel like zh!t. And my dad is getting me canned orange slices because they have Vitamin C in them which makes colds go away apparently and I don't like orange juice. Blah. So, here I am, with no inspiration to write, in my bedroom, waiting and being depressed. Would you like to know why I am depressed? Of course you do because if you didn't want to know, you wouldn't be reading this, now would you? So, I am depressed because my best friend is hundreds of miles away and he can't text until Sunday, which equals a sad Roxanne. Boohoo. This is a kinda awkward place to stop writing but oh well, I have nothing more to say so goodbye.
Just so you know, I refuse to call this a diary. Diaries are for sissys.
So, today is Saturday and would you like to know where I am? In my room waiting for my dad to come home with my canned orange slices. Would you like to know why? Because I'm sick. I have a cold and I feel like zh!t. And my dad is getting me canned orange slices because they have Vitamin C in them which makes colds go away apparently and I don't like orange juice. Blah. So, here I am, with no inspiration to write, in my bedroom, waiting and being depressed. Would you like to know why I am depressed? Of course you do because if you didn't want to know, you wouldn't be reading this, now would you? So, I am depressed because my best friend is hundreds of miles away and he can't text until Sunday, which equals a sad Roxanne. Boohoo. This is a kinda awkward place to stop writing but oh well, I have nothing more to say so goodbye.
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