What are they thinking? Am I not enough? Did I do something wrong?

This is the worst time for something like this to happen. I'm twelve years old, for Pete's sake. I'm at the prime of my life. They couldn't save the bad news until I was at least off to college?

"Aren't you excited? You're going to be a big sister!"

No, mother, I am not excited. I'm actually quite upset, if you haven't noticed.

"I'll be in my room." Inside my room, I came to a conclusion:

From this day on, Olga Pataki is the epitome of perfection.

Because it had to start somewhere.

Love,

PointyObjects