"Really?" Hayley replied. "Are you capable of not blogging?"
"Why do you doubt me? If I don't feel like blogging, I won't blog. Stay out of this," Hayley said.
"Oh, all right. It's just--"
"It's just what?" demanded an exhausted Hayley, still wearing an abundance of eyeliner from her choir show. She rubbed with her palm at said eyeliner, which was already doing much more than lining her eyes, as there was a good centimeter of it.
"It's just that you're a slave to your readers," quoth Hayley, amidst a yawn. "I don't think you can honestly go to bed having given them nothing."
Hayley was defeated. She glanced halfheartedly at her computer's clock, and with exactly thirty minutes left, began to type a blog entry.
Things you need to know about opening night:
--The "Seasons of Love" soloist nailed his part, and although I still felt a pang of jealousy, I was proud of him. I'm so self-centered. He needs recognition way more than I do.
--My boyfriendthing and I are the talk of the town. We got a lot of nudges and giggles tonight. People stared at me expectantly whenever he spoke, and trust me, he speaks more than anyone else I've ever met. Freshman girls sighed with dismay when he leaned on my shoulders to mark his territory. As if people are fighting him for it!
--My parents said my jewelry looked ridiculous. And I wasn't even really trying to be stupid with it. So.
Things you don't need to know about the rest of my day:
--In typing up responses to senior surveys for the newspaper, I remembered once again how little I feel for anyone in my class. I'm amused by my friends' answers, annoyed with my enemies', and bored by everyone else's. I'm perfectly okay with never talking to any of those people again, save four or five.
--I think my ex-boyfriend continues to leave cryptic messages for/about me on the internet. About how much he despises me. I could be flattering myself with this assumption, but I'm fairly amused. I bet he's skimming this right now. Heeeey.
--I'm sad. Without reason; just am.
Sexy: Black ties.
Unsexy: Black bandanas tied around foreheads. You do not look like a gangsta. You look like a skinny suburban white kid who lives on a farm and performs in pops concerts with a high school choir.
Chipotle burritos this year: 18
Days left of high school: 6
Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3