19-10-2009

I probably didn't mention a girl named Ginny, I probably did but I didn't say her name, I called her a bitch. And she still is.

She never really messed with me, she doesn't dare to do that. She gets good grades in many subjects but not in English, so I should be fine with her, but somehow I detest her so freaking much.

I'm having a special class on every Saturday. Ms. Rose is our teacher, who is the best teacher I've met. She's way better than the foreigners I've seen so far. She talks deep, she has taught us a lot. Even if she just sits and talks, it's already an incredible lesson.

Ms. Rose remembered my name since I saw her the second time, maybe because I helped her to do some work or maybe because I was the few numbers of people who would answer her questions. And that made me so happy.

Ginny was absent that day. My seat was the closest to Ms. Rose so she gave me a paper and asked if I could hand it to her. She didn't know I hate her of course. Many people don't know, or not sure, too. But most people can feel it, feel the anger, envy aura when she gets near me. And while my eyes can't move from staring at her maliciously in such a scary, horrible face, someone must know something.

But it's okay, I don't have to hide it, it's even better for her to know that I detest her, so that she'd stay away from me. I don't want her to be sent into hospital because of her half-witted mind and make me kick her ass. Although it'd be a pleasure to do that.