So it’s Sunday and I’m updating! Yay!
I’ve been so busy this past week it’s not even funny. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Yesterday I babysat and when I took my little cousin to the park, this really cute guy called me cute and I told him his shoelaces were cute.
“Ur shoelaces are tots adorbs bro, lol xxx”
I’m not even joking.
I wanted to dig a hole in the sandbox and die.
Anyway, this chapter sucks, lol, and it’s short. Sorry guys, sorry.
Shout out to Rocio for helping me write the mushy parts, because if you couldn’t tell, I’m not good with romance. lol.
Skylar’s Point of View
The last and final two days of the photo shoot went really well. I'd explain to you what happened, but nothing too major or exciting happened. All I did was press a button while Justin posed, shirtless.
You'd like me to talk more about that, though, wouldn't you?
But seriously, the other two days of the photo shoot were just like the first: snapping pictures, editing pictures, and dealing with a cheeky, cheeky Canadian. Every night after we were finished, he would drive me back to the hotel, stopping to an ice cream every night, which I learned to stop complaining about, because I love ice cream. I learned that North Carolina is the best place to buy ice cream because there's a Nutella flavor here.
Tonight, I'm just hanging in my hotel room with all the lights off, the only light source being my laptop. Tumblr and YouTube are calling my name.
I Skyped Dani and Rose earlier to let them know that I'm not mad at them or dead. I explained that I've just been really busy with the photo shoot, which they understood. They apologized a bazillion times, which annoyed me, but I reassured them that I wasn't mad at all.
I roll around on my bed a couple times, being sure not to knock my laptop off, before ending up in a fetal position; clinging onto my stomach and groaning in pain.
I fucking hate Mother Nature.
Yes, I started my period today.
Yes, I'm a moody ass bitch when I'm on my period.
I blame the hormones.
I sit up, still holding my stomach, and bury myself under the comforters, pressing play on my laptop to watch Bethany Mota's latest beauty video. I get into a comfortable position where it doesn't make me feel like my uterus is going to explode and watch the video peacefully for a couple of minutes before clicking on a new tab, to Instagram.
Ever since Fredo made me an account, I've actually been pretty interested in it. I've only followed a couple more people, like Dani, Rose, Teen Vogue, and that's about it. I've gained a lot of followers, too, thanks to Fredo posting a couple pictures from Justin's photo shoot and giving me 'photo credits', which I guess is just saying you took the photo. I'm slowly learning how to use Instagram. I'm not addicted-- I've only posted two photos; one the first day I had my account, which is an old picture I found on my phone. It's a picture of my hot pink Vans that I love oh-so-much on the sidewalk, with the sun shining through, giving the lighting in the picture a beautiful effect. There's a couple of random flowers here and there, but it ended up getting a lot of likes and positive comments, which were really cool to see. The second picture I posted earlier this morning, which was a picture of the Eiffel Tower. I'm in the picture, but it's the back of my head. My golden hair, which decided it wanted to be straightener than a pin that day, is cascading down my back, my ridiculously long bangs are pulled to the back, being held into place with a mint green bow. The tower is in the background along with the European sunset, which is stunning. That picture got more likes than the first and even made it to the popular page.
Whatever that is.
I'm slowly learning.
I quickly check my Instagram, which nothing too new or exciting is happening. I listen to Bethany explain how she got ready for her meet up in New York, happily scrolling through Instagram, before there's a knock on the door. I ignore it, hoping if I don't say anything whoever it is will go away.
|Justin Bieber||as Himself|