Oh, Lordy.

I just recently looked back on my previous journal entries. *rolls eyes* I feel like a such a hormonal pre-teen. (Though, I'm still upset about the move. Why? I have no friends in this country and I hate meat pies with a passion.)
Anyway, I've been working on Never Speak Again every single chance I get. I've almost finished the second chapter (I feel so lame admitting that) and I'm happy with how it's going so far.
I've been reading a lot, too. :D I finished a 450+ book in about 9 hours (which is an accomplishment, but an idea to scoff at by my friend) so I'm skipping a day of reading for writing.
It's 7:54 right now and I haven't written shit, excuse my French.
Speaking of French, I totally want to pick up the language. :D It sounds pretty cool, the idea. I live near to France, so why not? I'm even thinking of moving there when I'm older... :D

Something to note: Georgia is awesome. The people (at the airport, mostly) are incredibly nice. I gave a woman at a coffee shop a bunch of change (because we couldn't exchange that in England) and she didn't even complain or count it. Back home in California, the clerk would have glared at the money and huffed, muttering under her breath and then pasting a smile on her face and wishing me a good day.
Oh, how I want to live in that airport.

Anywho, I'm going to start writing now (and I'm going to write well into the night...or at least, until my mom tells me when to go to sleep). I assure you that chapter two will be up by tomorrow night. xD

On to depressing life stories. Mainly to sum it up, I hate England. It's boring here, I don't have a camera, boys have being harassing me since the day I got here, and I've nearly been sexually harassed by a boy who hasn't even begun puberty yet.
People make remarks about my "accent." Well, excuse me, boy, but you're the ones who have funny ways o' talkin'.

I want to go home, as I've said many times to my friends back home, but I can't. At least not for eight months. I'm not even sure how long I'm staying in this place.
My cousin's getting on my nerves, too. I seriously wish he was a girl so I could really talk to him.

I seriously need a therapist.

And I miss my dad. I'm wearing socks that I stole from him, along with a gigantic mustard-yellow sweatshirt just so I have a reminder of him while I'm writing.

Dammit, I'm listening to stupid love songs to remind me of the boy I left back home, whom I've had a crush on for nearly three years. Damn you, stupid year difference! I wish his interest had at least sparked when he found out I was moving. But no, he continued to play his stupid video games.

I really wish I could rewind to that night he and I actually had a talking that was considered a playful conversation.

[/depressing rant]

Look out for a new chapter tomorrow.

~Lilly