Why is my life not like a watt pad novel?

A confession

The other day, I came across something that made me hang my head in shame. You see, I thought I could rant freely on here without a dark past to drag me down. I thought I was completely innocent in the matters I am speaking on.
Well.
I think, from my intro, you can tell that I'm not quite as innocent as previously thought.
Oh, my lovies, I'm so ashamed.
I was looking through an old box from grade five, and I found a story.
It took two readings of this, this thing, for me to accept that I was the author.
After that, only my mother restrained me from burning it.
"I like it!" she said, protesting.
I would have questioned her sanity, but I know for a fact that it frayed with mine.
Now that sounds cruel, but you haven't read the story. And sorry(not sorry), but you aren't going to. I do, after all, have a few shreds of dignity left somewhere around here. Probably at the bottom of a chip bag or a lost bowl of bobby pins.
Hold on- I just checked, and I actually have none left. I lost the last of it in a show, backstage, when my "friends" dared me to walk past all the dressing rooms, all of which were full with the doors opened, mind, with two metres of toilet paper trailing behind me like a faithful lizard.
I wish I was kidding.
But I digress. As I was saying, I'm not going to share my story with you. It's just too embarrassing. However,
I'm in a good mood today, and I love to make people laugh, even if it's at my expense. So, I'll be nice and give you a recap.
Basically, it was about a perfect girl, with absolutely no faults or problems, who lived in New York but hated it. Why anybody would hate living in New York is beyond me, but Carmen did. She was also quite destructive, chopping up an "I heart New York" shirt merely because she was moving to Greece and happy about it.
Then they took a taxi to the airport and landed in Corfu.
Cue three pages of house description-completely unpacked and decorated within three minutes, I guess everybody ought to have a maid, or ten.
When I say house, y'all know I mean a mansion.
Then it was her birthday and she got a load of jewellery.
And then she ate a cake and got a boat.
Seriously, what is a girl like that going to do with a boat?
Looks like me and Mary Sue have some history after all.
Seriously, I created this girl and even I wanted to slap her silly.
Oh, and let's not forget that she"forgot about her birthday".
Note to younger self: Bitch please.
Ain't nobody forgets about their birthday.
I mean, honestly. We are all mature young-ish adults here. But I know nobody, out of anybody reading this, has ever not been as excited as the Easter bunny on caffeine for their birthday.
Cake, presents...
Dude.
Why don't we all just stop pretending and unleash our inner six year olds.
That includes you, Carmen Mary Sue whateveryourlastnameis.
I am so sorry for creating that monstrosity.
-bb