Chapter one: The famous writer.

CH1

"Not fair, not fair." 

Lester shouted. And it really wasn't fair! He was a famous writer on virtualbooks.com and the world will never know it!

Stupid anxiety. Is it's fault.

James Harrington had a lot of fans, readers, and a Netflix serie! But Lester would just have his stories, his laptop and Debbs. Oh, and all the money for James' ads. Yup. ¿Surprise? He is James Harrington. Is a pseudonym of course, my anxiety is b***h enough to force him to make a fantastic story, probably best seller, and make him not reveal his identity for HER. Now, James Harrington does not have a whole Netflix series of HIM, he has that series for the ONLY book he writed. "Twelve reasons to get over you" is a best seller on Virtual Books (.com), and Netflix didn't care about that they have "Thirteen reasons why". The worst part, is that the book is considered into romantic stuff. (Yes, VB, f**k you too.)

Know something girls, this is a FRIEND BREAK UP story.

Your little best author has been crying for days, because of Lindy. In reality, Lindy Sinclair is my best friend, Mindy.

Well, ex best friend.

She leaved me because of that b*****d, Damien. What the frickity-frackity? He just wants to sleep with her if you know what I mean. Ugh, she is exactly like the Mean Girls. She was Cady and then became Regina! I hate this world. Now, my novel just seems like a romantic story between my loser a*s and Regina George with different name. Doesn't sound possible if you ask me.

As stupid as it sounds, this famous and "hot" writer, lives in the suburbans of Eagledale. Yep, in Normandy. I go to the Clarence Farrington school, in Patricia St. Well, I used to go.

Right now I'm watching the news, and I almost died. 

"Quarantine"

Goverment, why.

I'm literally drowning. See? Anxiety is a b***h. Example: Imagine a toxic lover (not that I had one), you are not his boyfriend, and you can leave without doing a breakup, but you need a lot but you need a lot of willpower to get over her. Exactly like the anxiety, or depression.

I don't like being home. My mom is...this is weird. Usually, I can describe every single thing, but my mom is, simply different. And in the bad way. Just saying that everyone calls her (behind her, duh.) "Drunkowitz" instead of Grillenwitz. 

This is something like my memories, and is confusing. Because I was talking about the quarantine a second ago.

-continue tomorrow you sleepy bish-