The Boy with No Name

Dear Diary

I sprint down the hall, run into the sick room and say "My head really hurts can I go home?" The receptionist starts to talk, gesturing to the sign out form, when she does a double take when she see's me. "How about you just go home sweety?" she says empathy plastered all over her sickly tweet face. 

Well i guess seeing a 17 year old barge into her office, hair strawn everywhere, frantic eyes and smelling like a dying cow isn't usually something she wants to deal with.

I sprint all the way home, my legs burning from running, and my head pounding.

I've got to find his name

I get home to an empty house, run up the stairs to my room, find my diary underneath a pile of dirty washing and open it up to a random page.

Hey, 

One side of my brain right now, is saying to not fall in love. Whats the point? Less time, less money, more of people to deal with. I don't want to fall in love. 

But the other side, is saying to fall in love. Theres this guy at school, 

I stop. 

When i look to his name, its blurry, and looks like a pixelated filter is covering it. This can't be right. I flick through other pages, but his name is still blurry.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I wonder