Ugh, my mom finally got me a Kaggo. After, like, a year and a half of begging her for one, I finally got one for my fourteenth birthday.

I think she didn't get one because she didn't understand what it was. I mean, what's so hard about it? Kaggos are earrings that link to brainwaves and record my thoughts. It's like a high-tech diary. She offered to buy me a pen-and-paper diary, but that's a real pain in the butt. Besides, I learned my lesson with writing down my thoughts and feelings the hard way. Prime example: my enemy stole it and read it out loud at a party. So yeah, I'm not going down that road again. No thank you.

Anyway, so, here I am. It's weird having a Kaggo, because I feel like I need to talk out loud when I write like one of those bad teenage movies. Ugh, I hate those. So rest assured, I will not have one of those angsty teenage episodes. Please, gag me with a spoon. Or better yet, a knife.

Oh! Which reminds me. (Um, worried, much?) After my diary was read out loud and I tried to live under my bed for the rest of existence, my mom somehow 'mysteriously' got a hold of it. And, yeah. She learned a couple things that she was not happy to see. Well, I don't know. She's been watching me closely ever since she got a hold of it. I guess she's going to set up one of those parental control accounts and read my Kaggo. So, hey Mom. Please, keep reading. It's not like you're INVADING MY SPACE or anything. You know, it's whatever.

Though she never told me what part of my diary she read—or if she read the whole thing, which would just really piss me off—I'm pretty sure she read the Seth part. Which I will explain at a later time, because that's not a fun story. Fun story time! After all, today is my first day of freshman year in high school. I'm so freaking exciting it hurts. It physically hurts me. I am in pain as I think—write—this. Whatever.

Anyway, so I have to turn my Kaggo off for a while. They just told us at the front gate that there's metal detectors in the school that will completely fry my Kaggo. No thanks, this thing was expensive and I am not going back to giggly, pink diary mode. Gross gross gross.

Signing off! (I've always wanted to say that.)

A. Candle