Dear Diary, it wasn't love

3

Dear Diary,

Today is the first day of attending our classes and I cannot be more nervous. My alarm disturbs my peaceful, but anxious sleep at a quarter-to-seven. My first class is not until later, so I have enough time to get ready and eat. Although my second-year is a bit more tense than my first, it is not as demanding as Perri's.

I make my way down towards her bedroom door and let myself in to make sure that she hasn't overslept.

To my surprise, she is already up and readying herself.

"You thought I was going to sleep in, didn't you?" she laughs.

"You practically slept your way through first period of senior year, Perri. You can't blame me for being a skeptic."

"Senior year was nothing compared to first year. Trust me, I have adjusted to the time demanded from me. I have a morning class that begins soon. I've been awake since five-thirty."

"That is honestly impressive. Do you have time for a snack or are you heading out?"

"Probably just going to stop at the coffee shop before class and grab a late and a bagel, honestly."

As I begin to walk towards my room, I shout out to her. "Give me twenty minutes to get ready! I need a ride!" And just like that, I begin my easy makeup tutorial.

My makeup on a good day takes me all of ten-minutes to perfect.

I told you, I'm easy.

My hair - as expected - is in perfect curls and looks thick in the mirror before me. I shove my legs through my tight, black skinny jeans with minimal tears and throw on a black, button-down long-sleeve. I am aware that it will be cold, so I throw on a leather jacket for good measure.

I grab the three books that I will need for my classes today and stuff them into my brown leather bag. I really need to find my fifth and final book online, and quick.

I stare at myself in the full-length body mirror in my bathroom and study my reflection closely. My mother always made me insecure about my nose. She would tell me that it is entirely too small for my face and that with my lips being too round and too plump, I look disproportionate. Little does she know that nobody's face is truly symmetrical.

I have shoulder-length wheat-blonde hair with dark-chocolate roots peeking out. I have been meaning to get them done since last month, but Perri tells me that darker roots are all the buzz now. Unlike Perri, my eyebrows are very thin in order to blend with my blonde hair.

My eyes are a light mixture of green-hazel and my braces certainly did the trick with my gap-teeth.

I would not say that I am perfectly skinny, but I also would not want to be either. I fill my clothes the way that I would want. I am a bit heavier in the chest than the rest of my body, which I am certainly modest about. I don't enjoy putting everything out there and on display. I hardly ever show major-cleavage. I stand tall at five-foot-seven with very long legs. I used to run track in high school, so my thighs and legs maintain a good mass and are slightly more toned than average. I look healthy enough, except for the pale colour in my face right about now.

The coffee shop.

That bitch.

Him.

There is a tiny and unrealistic chance that I could possibly run into him again there, but it's enough to make me all-the-more-nervous.

Being all too cautious of the chance of his eyes landing on me today, I size myself up and add some more blush. I draw a thick line of black eyeliner on my bottom waterline and apply some lip-gloss.