7:37pm
Dear Journal-thing,

So my mom said I need to let out my 'frustration' and start a journal, which by the way I find stupid.

Scribbling in a journal won't do anything to help.

She's watching me as I'm writing right now. I think I'm going to write for as long as humanly possible then hide the journal where she'll never find it so she will explode from frustration! Sounds great!

It feels weird, like I'm writing a letter to a journal. Lame.

What do people even write in these things???

Well, my name is Marie Hannah. I'm 16 and my mother thinks I'm depressed. Which I'm not by the way.

My mother pretty much controls my whole life. I don't even have a phone, or a job or get to shop for my own clothes.

The only thing she lets be control is my hair. (Which by the way is frizzy, annoyingly long and beyond dead, but I love it). She hates long hair, therefore I haven't cut my hair in several years.

I know, I know it's not healthy for it but if she takes me to get it cut she'll pay the person her life savings to give me a freaking bowl cut.

I have really dark brown eyes, which my brother says are that way because I'm full of shit.

I'm 5'4. My only close friends are Riley and Payton. Riley is 5'6 with bleach blonde hair cut just above her shoulders. Payton is 5'1, he has a huge mop of red hair, with a whole body covered in freckles. I love those two, they're my whole life.

Naturally my mom hates them.

Anyways my dad just finished with dinner. Bye journal.

Xx Marie