This is not a journal. This is a memoir of the worst year of my life. Journal are kept by people who have nothing better to do than sit on their plush mattresses at the end of their boring day and scribble about a hot guy at the local strip mall giving them a 'look.' But this is more interesting. Much more.
I'm not normal. I'm not one of those girls who have boring days. At least they're allowed to write about it. To read my journal (which I DON'T have) you'd need to be able to access the CIA and MI6 database and list of agents. Which I highly doubt.
My name is Parfait McHenry.
I. Hate. My. Life.