The Anonymous Writer

The Journal With No Name
2012-12-26 23:28:13 (UTC)

Doomsday Eve

Dear Journal,
Have you ever had that feeling of doom in the pit of your gut that you know tomorrow will just not be a good day? Well, I have it. I wished I could know what it fucking was so I could just fix it and go to bed in peace. But I don't. So I have to stay here all night until I can figure my shit out. Otherwise I'm going to heading to my 8 AM tournament as awake as most people on New Years Day.

I have a few leads however. That's good, right? At least I've got some ideas. Maybe this entry will go by fast.

First Idea: What if it's because of my tournament? I mean just look at my previous entry for any further explanation.

Second Idea: Maybe it's because I just slayed Esther. Not like I actually slayed her, but like I came up with a remark so witty that she had nothing to spit back. Yes, readers, she is my best friend in North Carolina. And I hardly like the people here, so that's saying a lot. So what's my problem with her tonight? Well, I guess it's kind of childish, but I got so sick and tired of people in this town acting older than they really are. I was hoping she would understand that, but I guess she didn't, and so I spat fire at her. I just want to act like a goofball 13-year-old girl that I am with somebody else my age! Is that too odd of a request to ask for? I want to have marathons of Just Dance for a sleepover rather than sneaking boys into my house. I want to be make up dances to the new top 100 hits rather than worrying about who's hooking up (aka kissing) who. I used to have that. I used to have 2 people who would do that with me. But now I moved away. And I miss them. And I hate being classified as childish around this town just because I fucking don't care about partying as much as the next girl in town. Yes, it's fun to go to parties and meet cute guys and get my flirt on. But is that what I should be devoting all of my teenage years about? Random boys?

Forget my third idea of being homesick. Honestly I think I just hit jackpot. I'm going to let Esther work this one out. She deserves to crawl back for forgiveness, not the other way around. Did I forget to mention that she called my old friends losers? Well she did. Thank fucking god I'm starting to feel tired. Goodnight.

Signing out,
Brooke Something

P.S. That feeling of doom in the pit of your gut that you know tomorrow will just not be a good day is called Doomsday Eve in case any of you were a little curious what to call it.

P.S.S. Merry Doomsday Eve guys!!