𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚒𝚒

The Golden, Brutal Years ✨

I want it to be like, messy-

*melochanic drumroll*

There we go. Off to a nice start. Good job on the drums person who's in charge of the drums- *thumbs up*

So yeah, I'm back to write a fresh, new chapter about . . . erm, nonsense that is apparently humorous. That's the title and concept *sheepish smile*

We all know the teenage years can be exhausting or whatever, but who am I to speak about teenage years? I'm not one-

Oh wait. I am. Or at least according to my birth certificate. I just saw it yesterday. Looks old like usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. Clara *middle and last name*, born August 11 year 66666666 why am I telling you all of this-

This is not the fucking point-

God, iTs bRuTaL oUt hErE ✨

Alright, so-

15.

Nobody tells me they love me.

Well, that's a lie. My family does oBvIoUsLy.

But I've met no redhead named Abagail.

MY LIFE IS A LIEEEEEE

I DON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE

JUST CONVINCE ME THAT YOU'RE A REDHEAD AND THAT YOUR NAME IS ABAGAIL

*clears throat*

Teenage life is S O U R

Like, where's my fucking teenage dream?

And I'm not talking about Katy Perry. I literally mean where's my teenage dream?

Quora has my answer: it never existed in the first place.

If someone tells me one more time "enjoy your youth" I'm gonna-

AND I CAN LIE SAY I LIKE IT LIKE THAT

BECAUSE I DON'T

I REALLY DON'T

YOU'RE NO HELP QUORA

THANK U NEXT BISCUIT

I could've ended the chapter there, but I'm nice. So let's keep this shit going.

Let's talk about . . . ✨ my hair ✨