Dear Diary: I want to KILL, and you have to believe it's for more than just selfish reasons, more than just a spoke in my menstrual cycle. You have to believe me. Oh Christ, I can't explain it, but I'm allowed an understanding that my parents and these Remington University assholes have chosen to ignore. I understand that I must STOP HEATHER. Betty Finn was a true friend and I sold her out for a bunch of Swatch Dogs and Diet Coke Heads. Killing Heather would be like offing The Wicked Witch of The West. Wait, East. West! God, I sound like a ****ing psycho! Tomorrow I'll be kissing her aerobicized ass, but tonight, let me dream of a world without Heather, a world where I am free.