One year ago . . .
22 November
Hello, World!
I’ve decided to start a blog.
This blog.
Why, you might ask?
You know when you shake a Coke can and then you open it and it explodes everywhere? Well, that’s how I feel right now. I have so many things I want to say fizzing up inside of me, but I don’t have the confidence to say them out loud.
My dad once told me that I should start writing a diary. He said that keeping a diary is a great way of expressing our innermost thoughts. He also said it would be great to look back on when I was old and that it would “really make me appreciate my teenage years.” Hmm, it’s obviously been so long since he was a teenager, he’s forgotten what it’s actually like.
I did try, though—writing a diary. I managed about three entries before I gave up. Most of them went something like this:
Rained today; my new shoes got ruined. Jenny contemplated skipping math. She didn’t. John Barry got a nosebleed in science because he poked a pencil up there. I laughed at him. He wasn’t impressed. It was awkward. ’Night.
Not exactly Bridget Jones, right? More like, “can’t be bothered.”
The thought of writing stuff to myself in a diary seems a bit pointless really.
I want to feel like someone, somewhere, will be able to read what I’ve got to say.
That’s why I’ve decided to give this blog a go—so that I have somewhere I can say exactly what I want, when I want and how I want—to someone. And not have to worry that what I say won’t sound cool or will make me look stupid or lose me friends.
That’s why this blog is anonymous.
So that I can be totally me.
My best friend Wiki (that’s not his real name, by the way—I can’t give his real name or this won’t be anonymous) would say that the fact that I’m having to be anonymous in order to be myself is an “epic tragedy.” But what does he know? He’s not a teenage girl with anxiety issues. (He’s actually a teenage boy with parental issues but that’s a whole other story.)
Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I’m a teenage girl that I have anxiety issues. Let’s face it—there is a lot to get anxious about.
Top Ten Reasons for Teenage Girls Getting Anxious
1. You’re supposed to look perfect all of the time
2. This coincides with your hormones deciding to go bonkers
3. Which leads to the spottiest time of your entire life (making number 1 totally impossible!)
4. Which also coincides with the first time you’ve had the freedom to buy chocolate whenever you like (making number 3 even worse!)
5. Suddenly everyone cares about what you wear
6. And what you wear has to look perfect too
7. Then you’re supposed to know how to pose like a supermodel
8. So you can take a selfie of yourself in your outfit of the day
9. Which you then have to post on social media for all your friends to see
10. You’re supposed to be wildly attractive to the opposite sex (while dealing with all of the above!)
Please picture me giving a dramatic, heartfelt sigh at this point.
But surely I can’t be the only teenage girl who feels like this?
I have this dream that secretly all teenage girls feel exactly like me.
And maybe one day, when we all realize that we all feel the same, we can all stop pretending to be something we’re not.
That would be awesome.
But until that day, I’m going to keep it real on this blog. And keep it unreal in “real” life.
I’m going to say what I want to say, and it would be really cool if you (whoever you might be) join me.
This can be our very own corner of the Internet where we can talk about what it truly feels like to be a teenage girl—without having to pretend to be something we’re not.
I also love taking photos (don’t you just love the way photos are able to freeze special moments in time forever? Beautiful sunsets, birthday parties, salted-caramel cupcakes with thick frosting . . .) so I’ll be posting lots of them too. But there won’t be any selfies obviously, for anonymity reasons.
OK, well I guess that’s all for now. Thank you for reading (if anyone actually has been reading!). And let me know what you think in the comments below.
Girl Online, going offline xxx
Chapter One
Present day . . .
Hey, Penny, did you know that William Shakespeare is an anagram for “I am a weakish speller”?
I look at the text from Elliot and sigh. In the time I’ve been watching the dress rehearsal for Romeo and Juliet (three hours of my life that I will never get back), Elliot has bombarded me with hundreds of random texts about Shakespeare. He’s supposed to be doing it to relieve my boredom but, seriously, does anyone really need to know that Shakespeare was baptized in 1564? Or that he had seven siblings?
“Penny, could you get a shot of Juliet leaning out of the trailer?”
I quickly grab my camera and nod to Mr. Beaconsfield. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Beaconsfield is the Year Eleven drama teacher. He’s one of those teachers who likes being “down with the kids”—all gelled hair and “call me Jeff.” He’s also the reason our version of Romeo and Juliet is set in a Brooklyn ghetto and Juliet is leaning out of a trailer rather than a balcony. My BFIS (Best Friend in School), Megan, loves Mr. Beaconsfield, but then, he does always cast her in all the lead roles. Personally, I think he’s a little creepy. Teachers shouldn’t want to hang out with teenagers. They should want to mark books and stress about school inspections and whatever else they get up to in the staff room.