The Side No One Sees

Welcome to crazy, slightly sociopathic mind of Roberta Gratzioli, sixteen-year-old British female. I am now going to pour out my soul into this diary. It feels weird to be doing this. It is like I am letting go of everything that has been pulling me down and making me feel like I am worthless. You guys are now like a therapist who I can talk to and maybe you will comment on what you think I should do. I have decided that this will be themed so each chapter will be fandomised one way or another (I'm gonna find ya. I'm gonna getcha' getcha'. Okay just me singing all by myself.)

Read away and I will kidnap you and drag you down to my wine cellar and then possess you. Ha ha no.

Read away and this is my entry for the Diary Competition.


7. 2nd June 2015

Hello Darlings, 

The Supernatural Parody by the HIllywood Show is amazing! I loved it, Hilly was amazing and so was Hannah. My friends and I love it. 


I need to rant because diaries are where you pour out your soul, almost. 

School. To be exact: People in my school or on my bus. 

First off, it is not 'cool' or make you any more likeable if you blow up condoms on the bus and let them go. I will come over and slap you. I am not ashamed to say it. It is not fun to have a bright pink item that is meant to stop pregnancy flying over your head. You put it on so that when you decide to do what you do with them YOU DON'T BECOME A FREAKING PARENT! Ahem. Rant part one over. 

Rant part two: Girls who roll up their skirts.

I do it. Coming straight out with it there and being a hypocrite. But having your skirt so high it becomes a belt? Pull it down and you look like someone who just wants attention or you have nice legs and want to flash them. You might have a nice fake tan that makes you look like am orange with arms and legs, but I don't want to see your bum. Okay? Okay. There are just some things I can tolerate and having your skirt at a decent length is okay, but high and tight enough you can't walk or bend over without someone having a sudden flash is not nice. 

So then on to nicer things. Cover teachers who can't say your name. 
They can't. Roberta isn't my real name and lets's just say that my real name used to be close to a toilet paper brand. Pen name people. JK Rowling did it and so am I. I have this french teacher who is slightly different to what I have normally had and I sit next to a girl whose name is Chelia, she is part Spanish, and he can't say our names. He asks everyone around us what a train station was, but not me. He picked on me because I was twirling around my pen. Still doesn't know my name. The funny thing is my head of year doesn't know my name and I have been in his year since I was ten. My American English teacher can't say my name. Two things wrong with that: 1. In America, my name is more common. 2. She has taught me for nearly three years.


Rant over. I gave up on the themes thing. Maybe next time.

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