Dear JOURNAL,

So like, whoa today was wild. So I was doing my usual thing being real cool and mysterious at the window of my dorm when this like, really cool dude with sick boots came up to me and offered me this job thing or whatever. So like, obviously I accepted the offer (and the hit of what he was smoking) and BOOM I was transported like across the country or whatever to help escort this kid to Hawaii. The kids name is Benji btw, he was chill. He like, could fly and stuff and turn invisible which would be SO HELPFUL cause like, I can't stop attracting attention. Anyway we like shot some stuff or w/e, boarded a plane and then like a bird chick attacked us and stuff. Its kinda crazy how that kinda just worked out... I have a good feeling that this is the start of something good tho so I'll keep you updated.

- Yours Truly

Dawn Newday

Dear Journal,

GOD I JUST WANT TO DIE ALREADY. I’ve been searching for that dark, mysterious guy who sent me off to find Benji and the others but like??? He’s literally nowhere?? It’s total bullshit. And OF COURSE no one’s lifting a finger to help me. I’ve been asking around campus—like, hey, have you seen an edgy, brooding guy with actual taste?—and all anyone can point me to are TOTAL POSERS decked out in Hot Topic clearance wear. Kill me.

I just want more. More power. More purpose. More than this pathetic existence of group projects and forced smiles. Ever since I helped get Benji where he needed to go, I’ve felt... different. Like I’ve got this eerie ability to block out crap I don’t want to deal with. But it’s not enough. I want to fly and disappear from the world just like Benji does. And I know that mystery guy is the key—I just screwed up and didn’t get his number, like an idiot. All I’ve got is knowledge on when Benji's playing his switch (which doesn't help cause he's like ALWAYS ON).

Whatever. It’s fine. I’ll just keep dragging myself to these soul-sucking classes and exchanging fake pleasantries with the brainwashed masses until fate finally decides to stop spitting in my face.

Yours in Misery,

Dawn Newday