I startle, my arm flying up instinctively to cover the page. You’ve spent an absurd amount of time trying to think of the perfect first sentence. You’re legally allowed to in the UK!Ħ) Start your great American novel. Don’t black out or anything, but find out what it’s like in a controlled, self-aware environment. You’ve done nothing in New York City during the 2.5 years you’ve been there, you idiot.ĥ) Maybe try getting a little bit drunk. Stop kiss-blocking self.Ĥ) Have adventures in the city you’re in. I click the pen and scribble down four more goals.ģ) Kiss a boy you like. These friendless times call for extreme outgoing measures. I’ve watched my cousin Leo do it in school for years, and I’m ready. I’m going to talk to people I don’t know like I already know them-that’s the secret.
This new notebook makes a satisfying noise as I pull back the cover and flip it around to view my first entry.ġ) Kick ass at internship-turn it into a paid summer job.Ģ) Make friends you like to hang out with and who like to hang out with you.
These days all my notebooks are Horcruxes, so I’ve started titling them accordingly Horcrux notebooks one through eight are piled up in a Rubbermaid under my bed back in New York. I find it cathartic to pour out my soul via pen and paper. I fold forward, trying not to bang my head on the seat in front to me, and extract the pen and notebook from my book bag on the floor-writing usually helps. I grip the armrest nearest to the window. Every time I think about it, my hands start shaking. My parents don’t know about the irrelevant part. Now, I’m thousands of miles over the Atlantic in a giant hollowed-out pen with wings, on my way to a study abroad program that’s irrelevant to my major. Not having one has forced me to consider my path-changing options. People can continue along most paths, however unpleasant, if they have at least one good friend with them. I’m leaving the country because I have no friends.
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