[Another story type thing.]
Her hair is always in a bun with curly black wisps hanging down, touching the nape of her neck. Her eyes are gray and wild as they dart around. She's jittery, her hands shake, perhaps from the fact that she lives off of cigarettes and black coffee.
She buries herself in work, a walking time bomb. She wears black pin-striped suits. She is quite practical after all. She barks orders and calculates spreadsheets in her head. Her desk is perfectly organized and color-coded.
Sometimes she brings it all home. She looks perfect. But inside she is a mess.
Her bun is disheveled and ratted. Her eyes are tired, unblinking and broken. She's stressed and worn out but keeps up appearances with her smoking and consumption of hot coffee.
She buries herself in work because she can't think of what her life is like. She wears those suits to look neat while her mind is screaming. She yells and overworks her poor, tired brain. Her desk is organized while her brain is chaos. She does it to make at least one better. She can't help but bring it home.
Outside she's perfect. Inside she is a mess.
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Paisley Marin's Diary
RandomThis is my diary. I've kept one since I was in first grade but I'll start in fifth grade. The only thing I'm changing is the names. I hope that some of my experiences may help some other girls. The comments in the brackets are my commentary lookin...
