It seems that all of a sudden, everyone has become fascinated with my sex life. Yes, the one that doesn't exist. It's very odd to feel like a thirty-year-old virgin at the age of sixteen. (Yes, I'm an arrogant jerk who's never happy where I am. Get over it.) My dubious getting laid has dominated almost every conversation I've had in the last week.

If I had a covert affair with a married man, I'm sure this wouldn't happen. But then I'd be the other woman, and whatever interchangable, spoiled children he had would want me dead, plus I'm not crazy about hotel rooms. On the other hand, I'd wear really cool lingerie and get lots of expensive jewelry. Though come to think of it, I've always found expensive jewelry incredibly overrated.

I wish that I had more badass secrets.

I wish I could make up my mind.

I wish this high school thing would lapse into college. Now would be nice.