Dear Diary, today, as usual, was an absolute parade of joy and delight, said no one ever, starting with the world’s most boring history class where Mr. Drone-on-and-on turned what could have been an epic tale of war and betrayal into a cure for insomnia, then onto lunch where I had the immense pleasure of witnessing the popular clique perfecting their art of shallow conversation and one-upmanship, oh joy, followed by the thrilling discovery that my locker had been graced by someone’s leftover sandwich — mystery meat, anyone? — and then, to top it all off, the universe decided I hadn’t had enough excitement for one day and sent down a torrential downpour just as I walked home, because who doesn’t love arriving home looking like a drowned rat, but hey, at least I have this diary to confide in, which, let’s face it, is about as effective as talking to a brick wall, but with less personality.
