dear diary | shefani

Entry Nine

Entry Nine

Dear Diary,

The anxiety got to be too much, so I've stayed home from school for the past two days.

I'm way too scared about seeing Blake, or, even worse, witnessing the kids fine out about it. I don't know why I'm so certain people will find out. Perhaps it's because I'm in high school, were social climbing is the key to success. I can basically picture it now: "Nobody Gwen Stefani Fucks Hot New Kid Blake Shelton."

Pharrell keeps blowing up my phone with concerned texts. Of course, being me, I don't respond to any of them. No, Pharrell, I'm not okay because I idiotically slept with the new kid literally everyone is drooling over. Ugh!

I'm probably making a bigger deal out of this than it really is. I mean, it's high school! I'm sure most of the school lost their virginities awhile back! We're seniors, technically adults now. We know what the birds and the bees are.

Though, thinking about this, maybe the problem is that my class is way too obsessed with anything sex related. It's not normalized to have intercourse in high school yet, though that may be hard to believe. Sure, most people have done it by the time they graduate high school, but it's not like we can talk about our experiences without friends freaking out.

So, here I lay, writing to you again, diary. I regret ever wanting to grow up-because being old sucks. Speaking of regrets, you'd think I would regret everything that happened that night. Surprisingly, I don't. Ashamed? Maybe. Regret? No.

Hold on, my mom's telling me someone's at the door.

to be continued.