Diary. A diary, a diary, a diary, a diary.

Okay, I'm sorry. I don't know what to write in this. I've never written in a diary before. And, honestly, who still does? I guess if I was a pre-teen during the sixties experiencing her first love like in the movies I would probably enjoy doing this. But... sadly, I am not.

I'm just an eleven-year-old that had the luck of her mom disturbing the enjoyment of her solitude just to give her a diary and is now watching her write in it while checking her grammar and spelling. If my mom didn't gave it to me as a gift it probably will be one of those books or notebooks collecting dust on the bookshelf. Why do I even need to do this shiz?

When she gave me it at first I thought it was a book because it was wrapped in gift wrapper. I never liked books. I was always one to be the "Reading without comprehension" type. Then I realized it was too small and thin to even be a proper book for pre-teens. So I just removed the wrapping's tape (because if someone took some time wrap something it would be rude and a waste to just rip it off like a ravenous beast.). Now, someone might think of this as ungrateful, but I hated it.

The cover looked like the creator just took a picture from Google and just started editing it as much as they liked. And the color. Don't let me get started with the color. It was so pink. It's like my mom thought she was buying a gift for my sister and not me.

My mom did have a valid reason for buying it for me. She considers me the best when it comes to the English language (next to my dad, that is.) so she thought of buying a diary for me to practice my grammar on. I mean, sure, I get it. I'm Asian. I'm in a new country. I have to fit in. But why? Do I really have to get swallowed up by the world's cookie cutter?

It was nice to finally get some of that out of my chest. But still.

Worst. Graduation. Gift. Ever.