Do not touch my diary! This is book is filled with highly classified CIA top secret information about how I went from a normal teenager to a spy. Because you reading this right now, I'll make sure to make the FIA come for you. Don't move, because yo...
ARGGG! When you say my life sucks that's an understatement from now on. It all started in the art class. To be honest, the art teacher was really nice and sweet... but to only Brittney and her friends.
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She doesn't really pay any attention to anyone except for them and you could tell by the fact that Karen was ignored by her until she became Brittney's friend.
In fact, before that, everything was perfectly fine. I avoided Karen while she whispered to Brittney and took selfies with her. She changed a lot. But she still kept one thing the same. Her anger. I tried to keep my distance from her, but it seemed impossible. The second I accidentally bumped into her, she had a major freak out. Like all I did was bump into her! Chill out. ;0
And you won't believe that she did next.
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"You know what?" I yelled at her. "I'm so done with you. You're just a selfish brat with 800 pounds of makeup on to cover your dirty self!"
That was me screaming at Brittney and Karen who looked up at me in surprise. I know it's not quite appropriate to write this in my diary, but who cares?! It's not like anyone's reading this. Wait... STOP READING MY DIARY!
I was so done with them. Seriously, what did I do to deserve all of this? I did remember on the last day Karen and I were friends, I forgot to go get coffee with her but so? She forgot to go to the movies with me on a few occasions?! How was this my fault? Which made me wonder, why was I friends with her in the first place? Karen did still look normal. Bright red lip gloss, shiny brown hair. Fake eyelashes and ooh, a fake personality. Let's see...what's changed? What about a heart that turns into ice?
"Excuse me, what did you just say to me?" Karen said, looking angry at me. Her makeup was slowly sweating down her face, probably due to how angry she was. Speaking of which, hopefully, I could quickly take out my phone, snap a photo of her, flick my hair and laugh in her face.
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