Dear, Diary
I sit in my room practicing my guitar.
I hear a knock at my soon the doorbell rings.
The doorbell goes off again. I guess my mom is not home yet. Something tells me to go downstairs and answers it.
I run I open the door and see the last person I expect to see.
"Mikey?" I almost gaps...this is a joke right?
"Frank right?" He asks
"Yeah,"
"Frank," He says
"Frank!" He yells this time.
"Mr. Iero!"
It was all just a dream. I hate having such vivid dreams.
Mikey, he was right there close enough to touch. All I can say is at least it wasn't a wet dream. Do people have those in public? Anyway, if I slept any longer it probably would have been one.
My Math teacher Mr. Smith woke me up from that dream. It's not my fault his class is about as boring as watching paint dry. That may be offensive to watching paint dry.
Tried my best to get through the rest of the lesson but I found myself fighting the urge to fall back asleep. As soon as he sat down I put my headphones in blasting my music in my ear.
I'm writing this in my class now.
I'm looking at the clock. I got gym class in a have in half an hour. I actually have that class with Mikey I have three classes with him in general. I still don't know if that's a good thing or not. It's probably not let's be honest.
Sincerely, Frank
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YOU ARE READING
Teenage Dirtbag|| Frikey
أدب الهواة"𝐻𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔" Relatively short chapters. Based of the Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus
