Dear Diary,

Alright Diary. Here goes nothing.

My name is Meghan Coldowsky. If I decide I like you enough, you can call me Meg. My dad used to call me Meg.

I’m twelve years old, practically a teenager. I will be soon. Just fifty-three days until I’m thirteen. But who’s counting? But, I’m sure it’ll be the same old routine. A “Happy birthday honey,” in the morning from Mom, and then she’ll forget about it when she gets home. “Oh, here’s a super nice pen, hon!” Right. From the office, am I correct? Whenever she forgets anything that requires a present, she always brings me something from the office.

I’m in seventh grade. Just started, and I already hate it. I can’t wait till I’m in high school and I can get away with skipping classes. Nope, not in junior high though, because the teacher’s watch you every single second.

I hate writing in this Diary, and so I will write more later. Oh, one more thing, just to clue you in on why I’m “so screwed up.” My dad left me when I was six. Some life, huh?