I stumble across this newly found room to see a face. Not mine, but another girl's. It seemed some what familiar, but I couldn't put a finger on it.
I grazed the pale face, and stared at the bluebell eyes. The soft blue hair was shoulder length. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes shone like night stars gleaming on the pale white of her skin.
"...Who am I? Why am I here? What body is this?" I am flooded with questions without answers, confusion without resolve. Another thing flooded through me like fire.
Anger.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" I glared at the mirror. And looked all over this room. "Why is this room drowned in pink?" The pink was giving me a head ache. Then I remembered this person had a phone. I checked the time, 6:00 am, the date was January 30th. The time I'm supposed to wake up, for my zero period. So, I know the time. But where am I? I open the phone, miraculously unlocked.
I check maps. And I almost scream in shock.
"PARIS?! WHAT IN THE HOLY FUCKING BADONKODONKS AM I DOING HERE?!" I whisper-shriek.
Today wasn't starting off well. Not as well as I would like that is.
I immediatly flipped through this poor girl's room, I'll clean it up later (meaning never). I stumble across a pink note book.
"A note book! Perhaps a diary?"
I quickly open the book and flip through it impatiently. It was written by a goody two shoes named Marinette. All of the things in this was about how grateful she was about her life and blah, blah, blah. I was expecting tearstained vent pages
A/N: In all honesty, that's what my journal looks like, I call it my vent. I'm so original.
I look through the book again. It held some important info on this girl. She apparently goes to a highschool. She's the same age as me, she also aspires to be a designer, and gets bullied by a girl named Chloe.... Sounds strangely familiar.
I look around, and find a drawer. I look through it, it was filled with clothes.
I find some clothes that... are ok... I guess....
"I actually want to kill myself." I groan as I pace around, tugging at the outfit. "Why doesn't this girl own sweaters?!" I dig through the drawer once again. "Or jeans? How can she live without any sweaters or jeans or anything comfortable... But the leggings are ok."
I sighed. Why was this girl so pink?
I look up, and notice a trap door above the bed. I climb up the bed and lifted myself up, revealing a balcony with arguably the best view in Paris. The effiel tower was glowing in misty morning fog. It was... beautiful.
I walked around the small balcony, and took a seat. I closed my eyes and breathed in and out. This is a dream, most definitely, probably, maybe?
I'm dreaming. Right.
I'm dreaming, right?
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