If you were happy every day of your life you wouldn’t be a human being. You’d be a game-show host.
Suicide gave Heather depth, Kurt a soul, and Ram a brain. I don’t know what it’s given me, but I have no control over myself when I’m with J.D. Are we going to prom or to hell?
Dear Diary: Heather told me she teaches people “real life.” She said, real life sucks losers dry. You want to fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly. I said, so, you teach people how to spread their wings and fly? She said, yes. I said, you’re beautiful.
Betty Finn was a true friend and I sold her out for a bunch of Swatch dogs and Diet Coke heads. Killing Heather would be like offing the wicked witch of the west… wait east. West! God! I sound like a fucking psycho.
It’s one thing to want someone out of your life, but it’s another thing to serve them a wake-up cup full of liquid drainer.
Tomorrow, I’ll be kissing her aerobicized ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Heather, a world where I am free.
Hi, I’m sorry. Technically, I did not kill Heather Chandler, but hey who am I trying to kid, right? I just want my high school to be a nicer place. Amen. Did that sound bitchy?
My parents wanted to move me into high school out of the sixth grade, but we decided to chuck the idea because I’d have trouble making friends, blah, blah, blah. Now blah, blah, blah is all I ever do. I use my grand IQ to decide what color lip gloss to wear in the morning and how to hit three keggers before curfew…
If you were happy everyday of your life you wouldn’t be a human being, you’d be a game show host.
