Obviously, I haven’t told anyone about this. The only thing more embarrassing than having something like this is having something like this that is mostly full of notes I’ve written to myself. This is the note I wrote in August that started it all:

Dear Universe,

I was sifting through the catalog of potential high school experiences, and I’ve decided to place an order for something just a little amazing. I want a yearbook signed you rock, don’t change by everyone except for my best friend, who basically writes my living eulogy, and my high school sweetheart, who runs out of pages with his x’s and o’s. I want to go to prom with said high school sweetheart, and he will remember to get me a corsage. I want to get invited to a party. I want to spend most nights with Abigail, eating pizza and looking for stars in her driveway. (Not with Hilary. Hilary can find a new friend, thank you very much.) I want to look back and remember like four things from senior year: the first beer I drink (which is bound to happen soon, right?), the first boy I kiss (also bound to happen soon, right?), the entire month abroad wreaking havoc on the world under the guise of charity during Senior Volunteer Trip, and that sweet, sweet time (prom night?) when I do it. I have a feeling sex is one of those things that just lifts us up. And with prom and graduation and everything happening, we are happening. This is it, you know? What do you need from me to make something just a little amazing happen, Mama Universe? A PO box?

Post-breakfast text exchange with Abigail, Hilary, and me, even though I should be at the bus stop freezing my sweet little nips off:

A A Friday with a party attached to it is literally orgasmic.

Please don’t literally orgasm at his party. C

H Ya… remember when Danika got really drunk on Halloween and took her clothes off and sat in the middle of Doug’s kitchen?

Poor thing. C

A My brother got us alc btw!!!

What kind? C

H Who cares as long as it gets us drunk?

Quick survey: Is Gene gonna ask-cute me to prom? C

H Honestly girl I doubt it

How about will we do it? C

H Def more likely

A Nah, I think you’re saving it ’til prom

Hehe C

Can’t the school day just be a freaking pal and finish with itself already C

A Patience, young grasshopper. Good things come to those who wait.

And those who carry a red condom? C

Selfie in the hall between Calc and Spanish that totally encapsulates my mood for the year: Abigail’s sunglasses covering seven-eighths of my face, Gene’s striped tie wrapped on my head like a bow, Mr. Garcia in the background with his mouth open, about to give me a warning for (a) dress code violation, (b) cell phone violation, and (c) chewing gum in school.