june 10, 1995 monday

hi, unidentified-living-organism-reading-my-letters. a little birdie told me that i wasn't myself these past few days and assumed that i was bottling up my emotions. she asked me what was wrong, but i didn't answer her. she told me to write down my emotions and feelings and pass this to an anonymous, so that i would know that there is someone out there who would be willing to listen to what i am going to say.

and obviously that "anonymous" would be you.

at first, i thought that writing to someone whom you don't remotely know is ludicrous and at the same time, precarious. because firstly, you're talking to a stranger for crying out loud (no offence), and secondly, because it's weird. but i believe that writing to a stranger is not weird. not at all. and i will not let everyone's stereotypical comments compromise and blemish the purport of a diary.

anyway, i don't want to write in formal terminology. so i will write vernacularly because i would like to pretend that you're not a stranger (though i don't really know your name so i'll just call you 'u.l.o.r.m.l.' if that's alright).

if you don't know what that means, then i believe you are mentally retarded.

:)

the reason why i wasn't myself these past few days is because my best friend, Hazel, has a boyfriend, and i don't like him. in fact, i immensely, monumentally, enormously despise that boy.

but i can't tell you his name, but since you are now my friend, you will be considered as an exception.

his name is Paul.

i will continue this in another time because my mom would kill me if i don't sleep early before my first day of school.

thank you.

i love you, unidentified-living-organism-reading-my-letters.

p.e.