Well, it’s been a while

It has been almost a year since I last posted.

 I was wondering the other day why I hadn’t gone on my blog in forever, and then I visited my page and thought ‘Oh, that’s why’.

Everything. On. My. Site. Makes. Me. Want. To. Jump. Out. A. Window.

And the worst part is: I have no idea how to change it.

I’m not really sure what I was thinking when I decided to make the link to my site “Hyello.wordpress.com”, or to write horrible puns (and then give credit to my mom for them, because that just makes it 10x better), or use Eminem lyrics for a blog post title. I was fourteen when I made this page, it was a dark time

Fourteen and below are basically the years of my life I have been trying to bury. I’ve made my friends vow to never mention those years and I’ve tried to hide any evidence that they even occured, but every time I see old pictures of me making duck lips at my Ipod or screenshots of depressing quotes I found off Instagram, I’m thrown into a cringe attack that lasts about 2 minutes and usually consists of me muttering “why did I do that?”, or “why am I like this?”.

Unfortunately, to make matters even worse, I’m surprisingly horrible with technology and I don’t have the slightest clue how to use wordpress. Therefore, I’m unable to bury my past posts that make me want to hide in my room for the rest of my life. If I could burn them, along with the 1.902 black and white selfies I have of myself looking deeply into my Ipod camera, I would.

But I also have this strange feeling that I should leave them up. I mean, being awkward, cringey, and embarrassing are all kind of part of the territory of being a teen. Maybe reading my posts will bring comfort to incoming teens. Maybe they’ll see them and think to themselves ‘well, if this total loser can make it through being a teenager, maybe there’s hope for me too!”.

And at the end of the day, I think that’s worth it.


(P.s- if anybody’s able to tell me how to make my posts private so that only people who follow my page can see them, that’d be greatly appreciated. I’m not sure everybody on this site wants to read my little rants. Thanks!)






Guess who’s back? Back again.

Hey good lookin’, what’s cookin’?


It’s been a while since I last posted, but seeing as I have about five followers and get about two likes on my posts, I don’t see this as a huge problem. But, to the wonderful people who have read my previous two posts, thank you very much. :))

My topic today is (drum roll please)…


yeah, I get it, not the most enjoyable part of the day.

I’ve learned that there are two kinds of people in this world. You’re either an early bird or a vampire. I must admit that I am more of a vampire. On the weekends, my usual wake up time is about 2 PM, sometimes even later than that. On week days, I go to bed at about 2 AM and get up at about 6:15 AM. Not the most healthy sleep schedule, but it gets me through the week just fine.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been a morning person. I don’t wake up in the morning with a good song stuck in my head, a bounce in my step, and a perfect appearance. I can’t usually muster up that ‘Today is gonna be a great day!’ attitude when it’s about 8 hours before my preferred wake up time. My usual routine consists of

1.) having my step-dad wake me up because I sleep like a log and not even an alarm clock can interrupt my slumber

2.) laying in bed, contemplating life and the purpose of school

3.) running to the bathroom to whiz

4.) picking out clothes that

a. Are comfy

b. Are at least a little cute

c. Match

d. Don’t cut off the blood circulation to my legs (this means that I almost never wear jeans. I’m more of a leggings girl)

4.)  I put on my big, bulky, black glasses

5.) I enjoy the only perk of the morning: eating

6.) I watch the news while wrapped in a blanket

7.) I brush my teeth

8.) I throw on a little bit of poorly done makeup to make myself look somewhat presentable

9.) I take my hair out of the bun that I throw it into after I wash my hair the night before (I don’t brush my hair. It’s short and usually flat. If I brush it or don’t wash it every night, I look like Alfalfa from Little Rascals.)

10. I put in my ear buds, pull the most ‘I’m an angsty teenager who really doesn’t want to be here so leave me alone’ look, and walk into a school filled with people who want to be here about as much as I do.

I’ll awkwardly roam the halls until my friends arrive, casually greeting aquatintes and observing my fellow classmates. I’ll watch as girls gossip about their so called “friends”, guys lie about how they either did drugs or got laid over the weekend, and girls try to show off their non-existent butt/boobs. It’s as stereotypical as it is funny. It’s just a part of being a teenager. You watch out for the snakes/fake people, roll your eyes at the cocky, prepubescent boys who think they’re hot af, raise your eyebrows at the girls who use their bodies to get a guy because they’re either too lazy to use their brain or the boys they’re after don’t have a brain at all, and, if you’re as lame as me, you go to your favorite teachers classroom and hang out with your friends while listening to his bad taste of music and eating his healthy protein bars.

All in all, it’s not too bad of a way to start your day, that is, until first period stars.

That’s when the real hell begins.


(p.s I’m not always as morbid and grumpy as I sound in this post, I’m just very tired of school and ready for summer.)




Hallways, or hellways?

Hallways: an area in a building onto which rooms open; a corridor.

This is the definition you’ll get if you look up hallways online. This is my definition:

Hallways (a.k.a hellways): literal hell.

(AN: I must give credit to my mom for the hallway/hellway pun. Thanks momma.)

I’m not sure if it’s just me, but I absolutely despise school hallways. I’m kind of an introvert, but I think that even social butterflies can relate to me a little when I say that hallways are bat sh*t crazy.

A list of reasons why I have a burning hatred for hallways:

•they’re loud

•they’re chaotic

•they’re packed

•not enough people wear deodorant

•some people think it’s ok to walk at the speed of a 90 year old

•hallways are like veines, and some people enjoy being blood clots

•you always feel guilty when you run/bump into a little shrimp of a kid

•you never know if you should say hi or wave to “friends”

•it’s awkward when you make eye contact with some random stranger

•if you’re on the small, short kind of side; you’re dead meat.

(btw I’m not small or short, but I have a friend that’s like 5ft and I loose her every time we walk to class.)


If you can’t relate to any of those points, I applaud you, you extroverted social butterfly! Have fun!

If you can relate to at least one of these points, welcome to the club. We meet every tuesday and thursday… anywhere but in the hallway. Oh, and on Wednesday’s we wear gray!





My friends told me blogging is dead, I refuse to believe them

Hello, my name’s Annie. I decided to make this blog because I figured, if I’m forced to live throughout the awkward teenage years of my life, I can at least write about it.

I know my explanation as to why I created my account should have been my first post, but how could I, a “misunderstood teen”, resist the mysterious and edgy four word post?

I know emotions can be misunderstood through text, but please take note of my use of both sarcasm and brutal honesty.

Those are basically what this blog will consist of. Sarcasm, honesty, relatabilty (hopefully), and awkwardness are the fundamentals of this blog.

Also, I’m not sure if I spelled relatabilty right. Sorry if I didn’t, I am just a teen after all.

Anyways, to sum things up, this blog is basically  about the pros and cons of being a teenager. I want to help incoming teens learn what it’s really like to be a teenager. I’ll write about the lessons I learn(ed), what to expect, and basically how to survive. This may be seen as helpful, or it may be seen as stupid. Either way, the life of a young adult (yes, that’s what they call you now. I know, it’s very cool.) is a roller coaster, and I just want to help make it a little more bearable (and hopefully more enjoyable as well).