Sooo Much To Say!

Sixth grade was the first year of "middle school," which is what St. Margaret's called Jr. High.  I didn't realize how lame I sounded saying "Lower School," "Middle School" and "Upper School" until I started talking to normal people that went to grade school, junior high and high school.  Anyway, I was 11 years old in 6th grade, and enjoying my last gasp of Lolita-aged hottness before puberty had it's cruel, cruel way with me.  In this installment of my Very Secret Diary, I must decide between two equally "nice & cool" prospective "b-friends," struggle with the jealousy I have for a friend with "an awesome popular boyfriend," and fret for the health of yet another friend who may be "anerexic or balemic (sic) I can't remember which."  But none of that really matters because "I can't wait 'til summer!  Weeee!"

Boyfriends, bulemia, whatever!!  I love passing notes and soccer is so cool!

 
Post script - the very next day one of my amorous suitors "un-asked me out" because he "didn't feel the same way anymore."  So I said yes to the other one.