September 1st, 1989.

Dear Diary:

I’m not sure who’s going to find this. Maybe it’ll be a janitor sweeping up the debris of another school year, or maybe it’ll be some poor soul trying to figure out where it all went wrong. But if you’re reading this, you’re already standing in the hallway of my life. Welcome to Westerburg High. It’s a place where a social mistake is more lethal than a car crash and where the wrong color of scrunchie can get you exiled to the loser table faster than you can say "kitsch."

I used to be like you—just a girl with a knack for forgery and a deep-seated need to belong. I thought being part of the Heathers was my golden ticket. I thought if I could just get close enough to the sun, I’d be warm instead of burned. But it’s not all croquet and slushies. It’s a battlefield, and the casualties are usually the ones who actually had a heart. Every day I look in the mirror and I wonder: am I a good person? Or am I just the best at pretending to be one?

The air here smells like industrial bleach and desperate ambition. It’s intoxicating, and it’s terrifying. I’ve seen things—things I can’t unsee—and I’ve made choices that have rewritten the social DNA of this town. It’s a lot to carry. Honestly, I’m tired of carrying it alone.

So, here’s the deal. I’m offering you a look inside. I want to see if you can handle the pressure of the red queen's gaze or the weight of a secret that could destroy everything. Are you ready to take a step in my shoes? To feel the click of those heels on the linoleum and decide for yourself what’s worth saving in a school this toxic?

Just be careful. Once you’re in, there’s no going back to being invisible. Grab a pen, take a breath, and tell me...

Are you a Heather, or are you a human being?

Choose Wisely.