Dear diary it is now evening. I am sitting in my room whit candles, and I am relaxing. It is my birthday today. I celebrated it with the whole family. They went home about half an hour ago. I got you as a present from my ant. So I decided to write in you every day.
Well I am now officially sixteen years old, a real teenager. It is so nice to be a teenager, you can just do whatever you want to (almost). The present from my mom and dad, is always the most exiting one to get. My family woke me up, whit a birthday song and the present. My dad was holding it, he said “go open it”. It was a painting, my biggest wish. I was so happy.
It was one of the Andy Warhol paintings. It is not a real painting, it is more like a print, it just looks like a painting. It is the famous one whit Marilyn Monroe on. She is in a lot of different colors. That is called modern art. It has been a very nice birthday so fare. Now it is time to eat dinner. Goodbye sweet diary.
The 6th of October 1962
Det er gratis at oprette en konto