I Just Need Books (Supposedly)

Sabrina saved me. My last day of summer was about to succumb to the planning of the funeral and cleaning my room though there's nowhere to put myself and watching tv while eating crap when she appeared while I was picking up my books. I went shopping for school supplies and found her to be the master of sales. We hit Sonic during the prime happy hour. We shopped for French bread and fancy cheese. We talked. We sang. We navigated little brothers and family home evening and embarked on the wonderfully awkward adventure of visiting Cameron. I should've expected nothing less than to find him, not at his house, but biking up by the rec center, enjoying nature and conquering a massive hill. We gave him cookies ad bananas and went on our way.

Back to my books: they bring me great joy. I am so terribly excited to receive assignments to read all the fascinating diagrams and examples in my psychology book, to decipher and translate the foreign and frightening passages in my Latin. I haven't had the chance to examine my other books. I did, however, purchase a pocket thesaurus. Gosh, I'm such a nerd.

What is the deal with all of these girls who are dating one guy and kissing another and madly in love with yet another? More importantly, why can't I just have one? That's all I could ask for, all that I could ever want. To be lucky enough to have one boy like you and for you to like them back, that is precious. If I were to find one boy, I would be satisfied, grateful, happy. I'm not trying to be self-righteous; I just want someone to give me a chance.