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#Post#: 164--------------------------------------------------
Jessica Seeley's Diary
By: Tigger Date: April 8, 2013, 6:25 pm
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Jessica’s diary was an old gift she got from her favorite nanny,
but she never bothered to write in it until now. The book is the
least expensive thing she owns, but it’s also her most prized
possession. The tattered thing was originally meant to be a
sketchbook, but Jess was never really good at that sort of thing
so she left it alone for years until she decided to make it into
a diary. Originally, she thought the idea was stupid and too
much like the cheesy actresses on tv that whined about
everything in a silly journal as if that would actually help
anything. Much later she decided to use it to let out some of
her more pressing frustrations as well as to document her stay
at the school. She keeps it in a safe beneath her bed, along
with the black pen she usually writes with. Most of her entries
are long and thought out, but that is only because she doesn’t
update it very often.
#Post#: 165--------------------------------------------------
Re: Jessica Seeley's Diary
By: Tigger Date: April 8, 2013, 6:32 pm
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Entry 1
Dear book,
If I have to hear more gossip in the gym’s locker room, I think
I may set the whole thing on fire. There’s so many “Well he said
this!” and “Well she likes him but he has a girlfriend and a pet
cocker spaniel and Suzie JUST so happens to be allergic to dogs
but their parents hate the girlfriend and Suzie ALWAYS has the
sniffles in school so that must only mean that he’s cheating on
her with 20 different girls and has a pterodactyl in his
basement!” Yes. Logic.
What is the freaking deal with needing a boyfriend anyway? It’s
like all of the females here have been injected with the stupid
drug in the freaking brain, causing them to act like mindless
hormonal zombies searching for anything with the needed parts to
call their mate until the inevitable happens and he leaves. AND
she has the nerve to cry afterwards and act like she didn’t know
what she had done to cause such sudden but inevitable betrayal.
They all just need a good smack in the back of the head, then
maybe a miracle will happen and the infected area of the brain
will promptly fall through their nostrils and onto the floor as
the angels sing and play their dinky little harps in
celebration. Of course, knowing the girls I know, they would
probably just get a funnel and jam the pieces back in their
otherwise-empty skulls and proceed to look for the next ‘bad
boy’ that walks passed them.
Oh, this whole ‘Hey, let’s make FIRE come out of your freaking
wrists! Wouldn’t that be SO cool?!’ thing is a load of crap.
Apparently, in an effort to enhance me, it is also slowly
deforming my body. Perfect, isn’t it? Aspiring model…with burn
scars. The idiots who are supposed to help fix it are taking
their sweet time, while I’m here, foot burned, hips burned, and
somehow having to hide all this from people at school. I hear
their whispers, too. I know what people think about me..
Anyway, that reminds me. I have to throw a party soon, it having
been my birthday and all. I haven’t decided if I want to tell
them what the occasion is or not, but I know it needs to happen.
I haven’t been social enough lately, and I refuse to be the odd
one out. It needs to be big, too. Catering, entertainment, and,
of course, a pool. If I’m going to throw a party, it’s going to
be one they won’t forget.. well unless they get amnesia or some
sort of tragic something that makes them unable to remember the
best part of their little lives. In which case, I probably won’t
remember them either, so we would be even. But so help me, if
someone tries to bring booze to one of MY parties again, I will
fill their mouth with their drink and set it on fire. There’s a
certain code you go by, people. It’s called the freaking law,
and I have a reputation to uphold. If they attempt to tarnish
that in any way, I will beat them like an ugly, red-headed
stepchild.
On the plus side of everything, my arms are not as sore as they
used to be and I hear that the doctor may be getting closer to
making a tiny fan thingy for my hands. Though, I’ve been
starting to wonder just what these ‘enhancements’ are for. I get
that it’s a huge status symbol and gives you bragging rights,
but something feels off. Why would someone just decide one day
to make a ton of super-children? Hal really didn’t seem like he
had visions of super-heroes in his mind when we spoke. I put it
out of my mind for a while, but now every time I see a robotic
limb or a set of wings, I wonder what the purpose of everything
is. No one with that much money does things like this for
charity. Publicity, maybe? I never understood a lot of the
motivation for scientists, so maybe I’m thinking about this too
much. That would make sense, since this whole burning myself
thing has put me on edge lately.
If I see signs of any funny business, I'm gone.
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