Sometimes when I am asleep, and the wind is coming in through the window of my childhood bedroom, I can almost feel you here. For a sleepover, the way we used to do all the time. It was just our clothes then, I didn’t know what was mine or yours. It was our day then, we never left each other’s sides. It was our life then, a pact that if we made it to 40 and were still single, we’d run away together and live on the beach in Mexico. I always wake up in a sweat from those dreams now. Now I live in your phone as an unknown cell number, I live in your photos as a girl you used to know. I live in that stain I left on the carpet of your truck when my bubblegum ice cream melted. Now I’m the most hated girl. For twenty-five years in a row. If you’ve never been the last choice friend, undiagnosed depression at a very young age, artsy but filled with melancholy girl, then you’ve never been the most hated girl. But I’ve worn her skin all my life. At first it was the separate group chat with 9 memb...
I find the easiest way for me to describe my point is through a story.... which, if you’ve been here a while, is common in almost everything I do. In my last year of high school, I decided to throw a party for me and all my girl friends. I was going to invite my “close” group, or the people I’ve known since, like, forever, and then I thought, why not just invite all the fun people I’ve wanted to get to know at the same time? Thank god I did. Because after I had went out after work and bought a bunch party supplies, decorations, snacks, set up the music, got everything ready, I got a text message that would eventually change my life forever, as little as it seems. I opened my phone to find that one of my best friends was going to have her own party. 3 hours before mine was set to start. I was doing my hair in my bedroom and my stomach sank to the floor. I felt so dumb. Why why why why would my friends do this to me???? Okay, I get it I HaVE sO MAny PrObleMs, but I was...