Hey, y'all. *Guys*. Hey, guys. Just realized not everybody here is from the south, might think I'm too country for you just from that.
I was West Coast once, too. After eight years sweating down here, no matter how much you scoffed at it in the beginning, you're gonna start saying "y'all" like everybody else. The first time it slips out your mouth, so natural, really is one of those 'firsts' you're aware of. Like first time eating chocolate, first time putting in contacts. Almost shameful. You really thought you were more civilized than the southern kids before you settled in.
I'm a high school senior, got too much time on my hands, decided to start journaling my experiences from over these four years. It just gets lonely sometimes, ya know? Or it feels like everyone's too *something* to talk to. Too annoying. Too overbearing. Too boring. I just want to be by myself, stop buying into this existential dread (ha), and amuse myself writing. What better way to toot my bullshit than pen the creation myth of yours truly? Can't hurt when half of all YouTubers decide 'THE TIME I WAS ALMOST KIDNAPPED' is quality content. The self-promotion void y'all throw your videos into has really lowered its standards, kind of like an aging sugar baby. At least my titles don't gotta be that clickbait-y. ;)
These aren't necessarily all real experiences. Come on, I can make stuff up sometimes, right? It can be like some Tim O'Brien pretentious shit. 'Story doesn't have to be true to mean something' and 'I had a poetic time in a war zone'. (Get it? The war zone was HS. That was edgy.) I had great practice making up shit for Tinder guys, could probably throw a screw in a story here or there and it'll sound all-natural. At first it was OKCupid, and then Tinder, and then Tantan (the Chinese Tinder rip-off where you gotta be white as Fan Bingbing's ass cheeks for guys to swipe right). Those are stories for later, if ya stick around.
So...stick around! Or don't. It's your life, you're calling the shots. Hey, who am I to tell you to clean your tub, or wash your bum, or not hang your dirty underwear out your second-story window on a stick? Pfft. Nah. You can make those big-kid decisions yourself. Like reading this after school, maybe. I'll update it every day or so. It'll be good. (Or, at least, of questionably good quality.) I'll be dry, I'll be sarcastic, I'll bullshit for as long as it takes me to secure a good grade in one of those godforsaken Socratic seminars.
To be honest, I should probably take some time to think about this, screw around with it and word it better, but I'm impatient. Giddy, want to post it just straightaway after writing. Ya feel? I might just talk myself out of it after I read this over again and decide it sounds stupid. Ha, that can be for y'all to judge. After all, this is just my high school confessional.