I sit on my bed and imagine myself as her,
whoever 'her' is, but whatever, I imagine myself with perfect clothes, perfect
parents, perfect boyfriend, perfect lifestyle. Because, well, my life is pretty…
boring. I wish I had all the celebrity drama, paparazzi’s and glamorous
dresses, but my life was more perfect than it needed to be, because I didn't
HAVE all that stuff. But this is the story of my many failed attempts of living
my juvenile dreams…
I guess it was an average day at school, when Clarissa Methane (no wonder the last name) comes by
my locker, gosh I HATE that
girl, and practically takes up my breathing space, with her stinky, expensive
RidiculousChic perfume, as she says, ‘As long as it’s pricey, my life is spicy.’
Good quote, Clarissa, good quote. She is a stinky rich as her perfume is
stinky, and her perfume did smell pretty bad today, even under her
circumstances, not that I’m jealous or anything. Anyway, she throws on her 60th
layer of eyeshadow onto her ridiculously perfect eyelids, she is just SOOOOO
perfect, that I nearly threw up in my mouth, in fact, I think I need to go,
just a sec…
Well, I didn’t throw up, I just had a big, sickly
lump in my throat, because being around the most Popular girl in the school isn’t as easy as
you may think, especially when they smell like cow dung…
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