Diary Of An Introvert Teenage Girl

First. I wanted to say my gratitude because you have chosen to read this well diary. It contained lots of happening in my life. But i couldn't promise I have to write everyday. I'll try but I won't take an oath and lest will be my sin forever. You should better tell me your name. Oh right I merely had forgotten. My name is Stephanie Segal. Mother had labeled me that feisty name. My dad argued but he couldn't say anything more my mom was our superior. So let's go back on the first. I really wanted to shake your hand. I never touched someone's. You have to lessen the fact I, million times, touched my parents' and brother's. But it happens to change the generalization nobody wanted to touch me. Even talk. Or social. Or look at me.

Through out my high school establishment, schoolmates, classmates stared at me for the very first time. But no words were coming out from their mouth. I never had heard so much beautiful voices of the people surround me. Only the band I used to listen. Coldplay, redjumpsuit apparatus, nirvana, band of horses. They're my bestest friend. The ultimate people alive and coloring my pitch black world.

I have no basic idea why. Why the townspeople weren't trying to communicate to me. I'm practically pretty. But not those elite beauties. Like one of the Gibson girls. Long neck, slim waist, height as tall as a giraffe. My flaming red hair, freckles sprayed about my nose, green sharp eyes. That was the true meaning of pretty. I have gotten my own dictionary and a mirror. But my confidence was down-low. Or the best reason is me. I got that fear of befriending all. Not-ms-congeniality but the urge to talk, er, I couldn't. Was that because I was bullied? No. Was our social caste lower? No. I can call Paris Hilton and befriend her. Were my parents neglect me? Probably. My Nana is the mom I can say my truly mother. Maybe the answers I ought to seek was me. I wear plaid skirt, sheer blouses, my hair is always tight chignon. I've got no eyeglasses because we afford contact lenses. I love to read. My best friend had lose her faith on me. Well let's commence this diary of an introvert to wish everything, anything will happen. That's part was very pessimistic indeed. Anything can happen. Not in a fairy tale motif way, but the reality has something to do to make life fabulous yet tragic and magical. And lovely.