This diary belongs to:
Isabelle Marie Whitney
Dear Diary, (or however I'm supposed to address you),
Would it be necessary to introduce myself in this circumstance? It matters little the scribbler behind these doodles, but seeing as all other entries start this way (I guess), I am Isabelle, Izzy, Whitney - high-school, teenage girl.
My first diary, my first entry, so it may be a little inadequate, a little awkward, to say the least. Maybe it is a strange sort of reflection of its author.
While standing in comparison to journals of others, historical figures, rhetorical genuises, I doubt nothing in here will be very exciting. Sorry, Tim - nothing of you're interest here either. Don't bother reading beyond this page.
So. I'm sixteen. I go to school everyday just as the other sixteen-year-old girls do. I have a little brother (Tim), a mother and father, no boyfriend, - a seemingly perfect, normal little family.
Hasn't put you to sleep yet? I, for one, am yawning. It is late for me anyways. With another day ahead, it's probably best I close here and go to bed.
This actually wasn't so bad. Maybe tomorrow you will hear from me again.
But, for now, good night.