Missy Shapiro is a tool. Yes, in the social Urban Dictionary kind of way, but quite literally too. To see my perspective we have to step into a common white dad's shoes. You know how when you get a new tool, for that yellow toolbox sitting in the wooden closet? That gorgeous F389 that you ordered from Amazon? Yeah, that tool. When you get it it's like your bestfriend and it doesn't leave your sweaty palms. But eventually, that expensive thing gets old, but you still love it. Then it decides to get rusty, and you leave it alone so it doesn't hurt you. Then when you go back to use it you can't, because it's so worn out and your old creepy neighbor that you hate buys it from your yard sale you had last Sunday. But then you want it back. But you realize that now, it changed. That old man changed it. And now you don't like it anymore but you still long to have your old memories back. That's exactly what happened. Missy turned from the absolute best to an absolute bitch. But who's to say I left her alone?
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I hate Missy Shapiro
Teen FictionI hate her. I hate her bright green eyes. I hate her million boyfriends. I hate her popularity. I hate her sleek brown hair. I hate her perfect body. I hate her happiness. I hate you, Missy Shapiro. Remember that.
