![]() Girls who have boys fawning all over them, following them around, hoping for a glimpse. Girls who actually know how to dress up and look pretty. Girls who take pains to dress up and look pretty. Every second of which, I’m supposed to spend surrounded by girls. Seven days also means one hundred and sixty-eight hours or four thousand and sixty-two minutes. And that disinterest is etched all over my face, accompanied by the big Fuck Off sign pasted on my forehead. Over the years, the growing disinterest that people show towards me has turned me vengeful and I, in turn, have no interest in anybody at all. ![]() I have never managed to keep myself interested in myself, forget about anybody else. How likely is it that in a mere seven days’ time, someone will find out that I am the most socially ill-equipped and maybe, just maybe, the most boring person ever? ![]() After all, it is just a matter of one week. I have always been a closet drama queen, that’s what my sister says. ![]() You’re just getting paranoid,’ I tell myself for the zillionth time and take a deep breath in and slowly let it out. Chapter Four: All It Takes Is Three Short MinutesĬhapter Seven: ‘I Didn’t Want To Lose You.’Ĭhapter Twenty-four: Don’t Make the Same MistakeĬhapter Twenty-five: ‘She’s such a bitch!’Ĭhapter Twenty-eight: The Broken-Down Workshop ![]()
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