Dear Teenage Diary,
I can feel this whole situation being blown up again. Denise is now talking to us both, but just knowing that Denise has the intention to take my best friend away from me just eats me up and something prevents me from feeling comfortable around her. So I wrote Sheila a letter while I was on the bus telling her exactly how I felt and it’s the most revealing thing I’ve ever expressed about myself. I was hoping she would’ve read it and then phoned me up to sort it out, but she hasn’t. So it’s either a case of her mum won’t let her use the phone or she just doesn’t give a damn. Oh well there’s nothing more I can do until tomorrow. I’m kind of glad I wrote it, as I needed to get it out of my head, but I really want to know how Sheila’s reacted to it.
Noah phoned me tonight and the poor love’s got a stinking cold. I didn’t have the nerve to ask him what he thinks about me, but to tell you the truth I didn’t feel that I needed to because we were getting on so well again. I’m really hoping he goes to Timothy’s party because then if we both get a bit drunk then maybe we’ll actually kiss and at least then the ice will have been broken. I’ve just got to pray that he’ll go.
*All names have been changed from those in my monthly teenage diary to protect the not so innocent.
Remember to come back tomorrow for the next installment of my 1995 teenage diary.
Missed parts of my Teenage Diary?
Catch up here – https://artofhealthyliving.com/category/blog/
Keep an eye out on my social pages for Teenage Diary alerts!
Facebook – @thisishealthyliving
Twitter – @ArtHealthLiving
Instagram – @arthealthyliving
Author Bio
Becky Stafferton is a full time blogger over on her website The Art of Healthy Living, mum of 2 and certified Queen of the hashtags. She continually strives to promote a realistic, sustainable and positive image of how to lead a healthy life. When she’s not writing or reading her teenage diary she can be found swigging Prosecco from the bottle, running through muddy puddles, making lists of lists, having a good old moan, scoffing flapjacks and squatting like her life depends on it.
