February 10
I ran off the bus and straight into the girls' bathroom. There was a gang (No literally, a gang. Like, ready to burn me with their hair curlers and stab me with mascara.) of cheerleaders gossiping in front of the mirrors. I hurried into a stall and sat on the toilet. I know, gross. But when you're about to have an anxiety attack, you really don't care. My head felt off. Like I was in a dream. I felt like the room was spinning.
Breathe Megan. It's okay. You're perfectly fine. Yes, pick off the fingernail polish that I JUST put on last night. Oh look, there's writing on the wall.
Jenny is fat.
See, at least you're not poor Jenny.
It took a few minutes, but I eventually calmed myself down. It was like it never happened.
Then I glanced at the wall. And in red marker someone wrote, “Megan Hawthorne is such a freak!”
Obviously, this upset me. But what upset me even more was that in my hand was a red marker. The cap still open.
What the hell?
YOU ARE READING
Dear Journal
Teen FictionMegan Hawthorne is a teenage girl with many troubles. Her therapist suggests writing in a journal as a means of finding herself and getting to the root of her seemingly random anxiety attacks. While she begins to explore her problems, she finds out...
