Convinced

Last Year

Ariana sat cross-legged with a book on her bed. Pens and washi tape were spread over sheets as she wrote:

Dear Diary

This is weird. Am I talking to myself? It sure feels like it - Hi future me! Speaking of future me, I hope you're happy that I.... you.... wrote this. I (present me) hope that you (future me) look back on my.... your.... younger years.

Ugh, this is so strange.

I don't know why, but I feel the need to introduce myself to you (me) and tell you (me) about myself (yourself) just so that if you (I) forgot, I (you) could remember.

Okay, I am extremely confused but here goes nothing.

First things first - I am a girl. I mean it is probably really obvious to you/me but we will never know who else is reading.

so sixteen-year-old you has tanned light brown skin tone and very curly black hair; everyone at my school touches it which annoys me but it is pretty big, though - I don't blame them.

Most people refer to my hair as an afro (which it basically is) but I tend not to because I have always dreamt of having beautifully wavy hair. I do like my hair though, it's just that it took me a couple of years to feel comfortable in it. nowadays it's short and cut in a... uniqueish style with one side shaven. 

I don't really wear makeup much because I spend the majority of my life at school and school requires a uniform and a uniform leads to a large amount of uncomfortableness - I just don't think it is worth adding to the list of my daily struggles.

Anyway, I am writing to you, diary, because it is the last day of the summer holidays today and I am about to start my first year of sixth-form. I'm not nervous, although I feel like I should be. I am more excited than anything because everyone knows that I love a challenge and I have a feeling that this year is going to provide a pretty big one.

Until next time :)