I'm writing my diary from my death bed today. Not actually my death bed - that would be some foolish romantic dream! - no, I am simply very ill having contracted some deadly disease from my younger sister.
I wish it were a deadly disease. That would teach all those who laugh at me and put me down, a very strict lesson. Then after death I would float as a ghostly cloud over their souls and watch them mourn and regret. Ha! Twould be a great day indeed.
However, for now I am contained within my shell of a bedroom, unable to explode with the brilliance I know I can. My head aches and my stomach is sore. I have also had 3 nosebleeds and my bedsheet looks a little like I have performed some kind of ritual.
Mum and Dad are still on my back about not doing chores and so on around the house. But I'm all like:
"You guys are oppresive neo-com...