I’m being Single White Femaled.
No joke. Not sure how or when she had the time for this, but when Ocean showed up for Group today, her hair had gone from a close-cropped ginger to long and lustrous chestnut locks. Which she’d gathered back in a low, slick ponytail.
SOUND LIKE ANYONE YOU KNOW?
Yeah. Right. Exactly: me.
Look, when I (reluctantly) agreed to mentor her, I wasn’t planning on falling victim to identity theft. But Zac didn’t even raise an eyebrow. He was too busy passing out spiral-bound notebooks for us to use as “journals” for “expressing” our “feelings.”
(I mean, really: journals? Doesn’t he know that online is the new on-paper?)
The only use I can imagine for my journal is as a scrapbook. If I lose my mind completely and hack off a hank of Ocean’s flowing mane of hair extensions while she sleeps, I’ll know where to store it for posterity.
Kidding. Mostly.
Gotta run. To those of you who’ve offered to come see me (Kay)—visiting hours for me don’t open up until next weekend. But maybe I’ll catch you then?
location: the sauna. Thank goodness for the waterproof technology on this handy-dandy device
status: stalked, apparently. I am a stalk-ee.
stalkers: just the one
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