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...
Too mild, too careless, too careful, too caring, too honest, too drunk, too cold, too sensitive, too goofy, too serious, too clingy, too independent, too shy, too extravagant, too lazy, too high maintenance, too organized, too fearful, too reckless, too confrontational, too difficult, too bossy, too frugal, too indecisive, too smart, too dumb, too social, too sad, too much attitude, too fake, too chunky, too skinny, too many Instagram posts, too filtered, too outspoken, too religious, too healthy, too much. Just too much. For me? Too opinionated, too loud, too big of plans for my future, asks too many questions, says the same thing too many times. You will always be too something for someone. Even the people I love most in my life are too much of something. One time, me and this girl really weren't getting along and I called my other friends for backup; you know, seventh grade things, and they all told me, "Haleigh, you're being too dramatic," and that it was too muc...