Light and Dark

I found these old photos of Lucas and I. 

We're not together in the photos but they were taken on the same day because my sister had a photography project. I keep the pictures in the very bottom of my sock drawer. Out of sight, out of mind. 

But lately, I've been thinking about all the things I've lost. My schooling, my shot at a relationship, my respect for myself. And I lost Lucas. 

Every now and then, I go back to the days I was pining after him. They were simultaneously the best and worst days of my life. It felt good to fight for something. To want something so badly that I knew deep down in my heart that I would do anything to get it. But it also sucks that one person could bring me down to that level. That I would throw away everything about myself to please one person. And I knew deep down in my heart that I wouldn't look back. I would throw it all away and not give a damn. I would do it for him. 

But he wouldn't do it for me. 

I was never that person for him. I was never going to be the girl he thought about day and night. The girl he would send an early morning text to. The girl who's house he would drop by to with my favorite flowers just to see my face light up. 

And these pictures remind me of why it wouldn't have worked out anyway. In my picture, my face is lined with heavy shadows. I'm expressionless, looking straight in to the camera. There's a look of angst in my hooded eyes that makes it seem like I've been carrying a weight on my shoulders for far too long. 

In his picture, his face is alive. He's grinning so wide that the sun glistens on his teeth. He's looking away from the camera with squinted eyes from a heavy smile and a bright sun. He's radiant. Vibrant. Present. 

He looks like a living, breathing, laughing person and I look like a shell of a girl. 

That's how it's always been. He knows who he is and what he's smiling about and why the sun shines every morning. But I don't know anything. I've been waiting to see a light, so have something with substance fill me up inside so I can shine the way he does on the outside. 

The sun that shines so brightly on his face dims on mine. The smile that stretches across his face is lost on my mouth. The squint of his eyes make mine look haunted in comparison. 

I've been waiting for the expression to flit over my face easily. To squint at the sun and grin without a care. I've been waiting for the sun to come and dry up all this rain, but I'm caught out in the storm. 

Lucas

I first fell in love when I was fourteen. His name was Lucas and we live in the same neighborhood.

We became friends when I was about thirteen.  My best friend at the time was a very pretty girl. And eventually, she and Lucas started dating. At this point, I had a huge crush on one of the other neighborhood boys, Alex. Me, my best friend at the time, Lucas, Alex, and another one of the boys from the neighborhood were five friends that couldn't be stopped. We did everything together because we all lived in the same neighborhood and at the time, we were too young to drive. 

While us girls were going into our freshman year of high school, the boys were going into their sophomore year. We discovered everything together - alcohol, weed, cigarettes, sexcapades. We shared them all. While Lucas and my friend were dating, everything was fine.

Then, one day, my friend just kind of lost interest in him. We stole some liquor from her parents' cabinet, got drunk at about one in the morning, and walked to Alex's house to hang out with everyone. I let Alex in on the low down - she was going to break up with Lucas. So Alex and I went outside to let them have some alone time.

So she broke it off with him.  It had only been a couple months. We both thought it would be no big thing - they were really young and going to different schools and all that jazz. As far as my friend was concerned, she was just along for the ride and this was her stop.

But, for God knows what reason, Lucas took it hard.  He started tearing up by the time me and Alex got back in the house and Lucas went back home a few minutes later. We barely saw him for the rest of the summer.

By the time school came back around, my friend ended up moving and living in a different school district. Alex went to public school, our other guy friend went to the charter school in our town, and the only two people that ended up at the same school were Lucas and I. We both ended up at the prep school a few towns north.

Lucas and I didn't really end up talking very often in school. However, he did come over to my house about once a week after school and we'd hang out. For some reason, though, he didn't like to talk to me in school. 

It took me a damn long time to finally figure out that the reason Lucas didn't talk to me in school was because he thought he was better than me. He went there the year before and I was brand new and he didn't want to be known as the only friend of the new girl. Which just kind of fucking blows, you know? Like, I wasn't terribly ugly or bitchy or unpopular. By the end of the first week, I found my group of friends, got the hang of the uniform, and built myself a decent reputation. So I didn't really get it.

Then one day, around the time we all got rowdy, ready for Christmas break, he was sitting out in the hall eating lunch when I walked up the stairs and saw him. He stuck his foot out and tripped me.  I didn't fall on my face or anything, I just kind of stumbled. At first, I was humiliated. But when I turned around to glare at him, I saw he was grinning. He stood up, and tickle-attacked me. I started cracking up and ran down the hallway. He immediately started chasing after me. We were both laughing unabashed as if we didn't have a care in the world. 

But then we made the mistake of running past Mr. Brown's room. Mr. Brown was the Chemistry teacher. An awesome guy who teaches better than anyone I've ever been taught by. However, he was also a no-nonsense kind of guy.

"Hey, hey, hey!" he yelled. We stopped in our tracks and snapped our heads down in shame.

Mr. Brown told us to come in to his classroom and sit at tables by ourselves in opposite sides of the room for the rest of our lunch period in silence. We made faces at each other from across the room when he wasn't looking. After what seemed like hours, the lunch bell finally rang. Lucas shot up like his ass was on fire and speed-walked out the door.

As I was packing up my bag, Mr. Brown asked me, "That your boyfriend?"

I stuttered for a second because, for some reason, I was just really not expecting that.

"Just a friend," I replied eventually.

"Do you want him to be your boyfriend?" Mr. Brown asked with that knowing smirk that middle aged men get when talking to naive teenagers.

I was as blase as I possibly could have been when I said, "Nah, he's not my type." My cheeks were flaming red by the time I finally walked out of the Chemistry lab. I wasn't fooling anyone - Mr. Brown knew I was head over heels for this guy. And he was right.

I stayed up day and night thinking about this guy, wondering if he was thinking about me. I constantly daydreamed about what we would do together if he possibly liked me as much as I liked him. But I knew in my heart of hearts that he didn't. He didn't stay up at night wondering what I did that night - if I stayed in or went out with friends. He didn't fall asleep thinking about how happy he could make me.

But I was so infatuated with him. Everything he did was just another reason for me to like him more. I was naive, I was fourteen, and I was in love. 

The school year ended and summer greeted us with open arms. And suddenly, Lucas was back in my life again. A few days before my fifteenth birthday, we ended up making out thanks to a game of truth or dare. 

And after that, I was seeing a hell of a lot more of Lucas. He was over almost every other day. One day in July, we started playing poker. We turned it in to a little bit more than a game of cards though.

Somehow, we decide that when Lucas won a hand, I would feel up on him. And when I won a hand, he would feel up on me. I looked forward to those games every time I heard my doorbell ring and saw him standing on the porch. This continued on and on and on until the Christmas of my sophomore year.

In the time that we were fooling around, my feelings soared for him. He was all I ever thought about. As far as I was concerned, he was perfection. Everything I had ever wanted and everything I ever would want.

When Christmas came around, I didn't see him for a while. I thought it was just because of the holidays so I didn't pay much mind, although I did miss him. But by mid-way through January, I still hadn't seen him. 

He ended up showing his face a few weeks into the new year, but I didn't see him nearly as much. Now, instead of staying up thinking about all the romantic things he would get for me, I stayed up thinking about what had changed. Was it me? Did I do something wrong?  Was it my fault? Did not even like me as a friend anymore?

I was confused and heartbroken. By March, we hadn't fooled around since Christmas and I had only seen him four or five times. Then, halfway through March, my best friend Justin threw his sixteenth birthday party.  Surprisingly, Lucas was there. I didn't expect to see him.  Usually he wouldn't be caught dead hanging out with guys that were younger than him.

I was nervous. I wasn't exactly sure how to approach him. And, at this time, I was dating Shane. I had been dating Shane while this whole Lucas thing was happening. But I didn't know what I wanted. Shane was easy. Shane liked me. And I liked Shane. But I had history with Lucas. And I wanted to see where it would go. I should have stayed loyal to Shane. And I know that now. But I got this rush with Lucas, like he was where I wanted to be. Like he was home. And the Shane thing wasn't serious - not serious enough to tell anyone about, anyway.

So I walked up to Lucas and put my hand on his back and smiled at him. He smiled back. Just as I was about to open my mouth and say something, he walked away. As if the smile was enough for him. We had acknowledged each other's presence and he didn't need anything else. 

I was sad. More than sad, I was mad. I was angry that this guy I used to sabotage my relationship with Shane could drop me so easily. I wasn't anything to him. Just some girl he fooled around with a few times months ago. 

For the rest of the night, I let that anger fuel my fire. I danced the night away with my friends, hung out by the pool, and laughed louder than I usually would. I tried my best not to look at Lucas during the whole party. I wanted him to believe that I was as unaffected by him as he was by me. 

I let myself glance over at him a couple hours later and he was dancing with a girl I played soccer with in the varsity team at our school. She was in my grade - a year younger than Lucas. And she was pretty. 

And it's funny because the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Lucas had a "type." Soccer girl and I both had a lot in common, starting with the fact that we obviously both played soccer. But beyond that, we were both tall, a little big-boned, and had long brown hair with a bleached streak in the underside of our hair in the exact same spot. I mean, it was weird. That's not a coincidence.

Lucas started dating soccer girl by the end of spring. That was fine. I just threw myself into my relationship with Shane and I told myself that I wouldn't look back. But I did.

I still do, every now and then.

It's hard because we live in the same neighborhood. Although he left my school to go to some private school in the city after my freshman year, I still had to pass his house everyday to get to my house. He lives on the first street in my neighborhood and I live on the last street. There is literally no way for me to get to my house without passing his.

And every time I pass his house and his car isn't there, I have to wonder where he is. Who he's with. What he's doing. All these scenarios pass through my mind and it fucking blows that the days of me pulling up to my house and seeing his bike in my front yard are over. In the blink of an eye, we weren't even so much as friends anymore.

It's been almost five years, and every now and then, I still think of my first lost love. For a long time, I thought about Lucas constantly. I hoped and prayed that I'd pull up to my house in my rusty old Jeep and see his little coupe pulled up outside. But that rarely happened. He officially had bigger and better things to do. I was pushed aside to live a better life.


But now? Now I'm nineteen. I'm no longer the naive girl I was five years ago. We haven't had a real conversation since and I've barely seen him. When we do run into each other, it's awkward and strained, even now.

And that's okay. Because five years ago, he dropped me for a better life. And three years ago, I dropped his memory and the hope that he'd return to my life so I could focus on what I had. I was happy without his weight.

What cracks me up now, though, is that he's a total deadbeat. This sounds so wrong and terrible, but it's almost like I beat him in the long run.

Five years ago, I was pining after him. But five years from now, I will be a pharmacist. Ten years from now, I will be living the American Dream with a beautiful family in a blue house with a white picket fence.

And he won't have moved an inch.  He'll still be stuck in a dead end job trying to figure out who he is and what he wants to do.

He may have left me in the dust all that time ago, but I fucking won. And better than that, he lost.

Anonymity

I left school. Everyone is pissed at me for doing so. My parents, my sister, my grandparents, I can even see the glimmer of disappointment in my friends' eyes although I know they're happy to have me back.

But it finally got to the point where I was so unhappy there that I started feeling a way that I think everyone feels at one point in their life. I started feeling like maybe this was it. This was the best it was going to get. The marriage I had made with my life that constituted the point "for better or for worse" had given up on the better part and was only able to give me the worst. 

Every other thought that ran through my mind was pessimistic and depressing. I didn't know what to do. It got to the point where dragging myself to work was bad enough but class, too? It was impossible. 

I felt helpless and discouraged. Like there's was nothing I could do to take myself off the path I was leading myself down and I was doomed to fail. Not just fail my classes but fail my family, my expectations, my life. I felt like I was doomed to fail myself. Like I would never amount to anything because I just wasn't worth it. I wasn't worth the trouble or the money or the saving. I wasn't worth it. 

So I made the decision and I left college. For the most part, I enjoyed my time there. I liked classes. I like the people I met. I liked my job. What I didn't like was feeling anonymous. 

Which is kind of ironic because I'm writing this anonymous blog for strangers who will never know that I am the author. My high school teacher or one of my coworkers or the guy working on the line in Chipotle or the girl that sat next to me in Calculus could be reading this and have no idea that it's me. That is anonymity. 

But what I hated about going to a state school as big as mine was the feeling I got walking around by myself, unable to connect with the people around me. The only thing that tied us together was the school we all attended but they all found something else to click with. Maybe it was a class they were both struggling in or the same complaints about a dining hall or how excited they were for the game that weekend.

And I couldn't tell you why, but it's so hard for me to bullshit my way through those conversations. It doesn't make sense to me. That I can't sit down with a stranger and discuss simple things. Not like I can discuss important things either. 

It's moments like this when I actually realize how terribly low I think of myself. I don't think anything of myself. But at the same time, I think so highly of myself. I'm a walking contradiction. It's like I'm the dirt on the bottom of your shoe but I'm also the best shit in town. I'm funny as fuck but I'm also as boring as watching paint dry. I'm nice to your face but I'm a bitch behind your back. I'm a good person that does bad things. At least, that's what I'm trying to tell myself.

If I was honest with myself, which I very rarely am, I would look myself in the mirror and list out all the horrible things I could say about my character. It would be an extremely long conversation and not one thing I would say to myself would be a lie.

I'm trying to change this things about my character that I find fault in without fully admitting to myself that it's a fault. Maybe that's not the way to go. Maybe I should sit down one day and just say to myself, "Isa, get your shit together and stop being such a cunt all the time."

But I think that would just make things worse. But then again, how the fuck would I know, right? I've never tried it. Maybe it will be relaxing, therapeutic, even. But I'm scared. I'm scared that I'll just be my own worst critic and hate myself even more.

Now, I'm trying to think of the positives. The things that are making me happy right here in this moment. Because I have so much to be happy about.

I'm sitting in my Justin's room with my two best friend while we're all just noodling around on our laptops, only stopping to do something funny or exclaim a witty comment. I'm home from school and although there's a new weight of guilt on my shoulders, the weight that remained from wasting my parents' money on an expensive education that I wasn't taking advantage of.

We spend all of our time together and I couldn't be happier with the company I'm keeping. Here, I don't feel anonymous. I feel like I'm thriving. Like I can do anything so long as I keep up with the pretenses and let these two people who mean the world to me honestly believe that I am worthy of their friendship.

Am I worthy of their friendship? I'm not quite sure. But I'm trying to be.

Safe Haven

I need a safe haven. Somewhere I can stop thinking about work and school and all the drama and everything I dislike about my life right now.

Some people use drugs. Some people have a friend they can count on. Some people just take a fucking nap. But I can't do that shit anymore. Drugs aren't really my thing. My friends are slowly growing more and more distant. Fuck a best friend. I don't even know what that is anymore.

There's always something to worry about. Like how I'm most definitely going to fail Organic Chemistry. Or how I may just be fired from my job because I'm going to slap my freak of a manager one of these days. Or how I lost my best friend because all she's concerned about anymore is her boyfriend.

Let me tell you a little something about my "best friend." We have one of those really unhealthy relationships where I don't think either of us can really stand each other for very long but no matter how annoyed we get with each other, we're still going to be close. Which is okay, I guess.

But it's like I'm so annoyed that I don't spend a lot of time with her anymore but then when we finally do get to see each other, I just want to find any excuse to get the fuck out of there. And I don't really get it. I mean, I want to say that I could never even entertain the thought of breathing a bad word about her, but boy, can I. She's conceited and superficial and she thinks her shit don't stink.

It's exhausting having to inflate her ego all the time.

I love her, I always will. She's a loyal friend and you can't really ask for much more. But, God forbid, she's ever wrong. God forbid someone calls her out on something. God forbid some guy doesn't leave her his number on a tip slip. God forbid one person decides not to worship the ground she walks on.

Remember when I lost my virginity? When I said that I went through with it because I felt like that girl from the beach and David both liked me more than they liked my friend and my ego was so fragile that the feeling of being liked made me ready to hop on whatever chance I got?

It's the same feeling I got when I found out that my current crush doesn't like her at all.  And neither do his roommates.

My "best friend's" name is Melissa. She's a petite 5'2" with blonde hair, blue eyes, a big ass, big tits, and a flat stomach.  Boom - every guy's fantasy come to life.

One day, my crush, Dylan, invited me over so I could buy some weed from him. Usually, he just lets me in, I get the weed, give him the money, chat with his roommates for five minutes, and then I leave. But this time, Melissa came with me. And this time, he invited us in to smoke with them. Correlation? Beats me. You take a guess.

So we get in to Dylan's apartment and sit on his couches. His best friend, Tyler was sitting on the long couch when Melissa and I first walked in. I'm good friends with Tyler.  We get along easy because we're both easy to get along with. Also, we share a mutual love of the same two things - beer and football.  Their roommate, Sam, was also there sitting on the recliner.

I sit on the smaller couch and Dylan plops down beside me. Melissa takes a seat on the couch next to Tyler. Sam and Tyler are talking across the room to each other while Dylan and I have our heads bowed towards each other, conversing quietly.

The only one not really talking is Melissa. And another thing about Melissa is that she loves attention. And I mean, if she's not the center of it, she's uncomfortable. She likes to pride herself on being "one of the guys" and down to earth, but she doesn't see herself clearly because she is neither of those things.

I don't like to kid myself - I can be "one of the guys" and I can down to earth if the settings are right. If we're sitting around watching football, I'll be the loudest one there screaming at the TV. If you ask me how I'm going to decorate my apartment, I'll shrug and pick up some unmatched but clean furniture from a thrift store. I don't give a shit about those things.

But Melissa isn't like that. She flits around pretending that she likes football but I can see how disinterested she is by the end of the first quarter. She's a penny pincher so she'll give you slyly condescending comments whenever you splurge on that really cute shirt from that expensive boutique in the mall that you really can't afford. She always has to be the best, the brightest, and the greatest. And it kills me.

So apparently, what was killing her was that we were smoking out of a bong. Melissa only likes bowls. Me? As long as it has weed in it, pass it to me.

So every time it came to Melissa's turn to take a bong hit, she'd wave it off. And then the guys, being the gentleman they are, would ask her why she wasn't smoking. She told them that she only likes bowls and then whipped hers out asking them to pack it. So they did.

And then she started complaining that she wasn't high. I took three bongs rips and I was done. I was stoned out of my mind.

We stopped smoking for a while and we just listened to music and bummed around, talking. And when I say talking, I mean that I was talking to Dylan while Sam and Tyler talked to each other.

Melissa, once again, was uncomfortable because no one in that room was paying any mind to her. So when Sam asked me what I wanted to listen to, she jumped in before I could say anything.

"Well, I love Eminem. Could you play him?" she asked.  Sam gave me a look before slowly turning his head to Melissa.

"Sure," he said slowly. "Which song?"

"Well, my favorite is Lose Yourself. I can rap every word to that song," she professed like not every single one of us in that room could do the same thing.  We were all nineteen or twenty. That song came out when we were like eleven or twelve - the time when you ditch your parent's music and start listening to the "cool" shit on the radio.

And, usually, I'm not one to diss someone's music taste because it's not like mine is all that spectacular. It's actually one of my biggest pet peeves. I don't think you can judge someone solely on the music they listen to. But with Melissa, it just gets on my nerve. Like I shit you not, I told her once that one of my favorite lyrics ever were from a song called Clairvoyant by The Story So Far that goes, "This is your life, there's no way to run from it - the doubt in your brain or the pain in your stomach. I only have but one complaint at the moment - don't paint me black when I used to be golden." And she honestly says, "Yeah, I don't know how some musicians come up with that stuff. Like Taylor Swift. When she said, 'It's a love story, baby, just say "yes."' Like, how do you write something so relatable?"  Like, bitch, seriously? What the fuck. That's judgement material.

Anyway, Sam plays Lose Yourself. And she proceeds to rap every word like she's the shit while me, Tyler, Sam, and Dylan give each other looks when she's not looking. It was actually kind of hilarious.

After that, he plays another song by Eminem without really saying anything. While the opening music starts, Melissa says, "Oh, my God, this sounds like that one song by Eminem. Have you ever heard Mockingbird?"

Sam gives her a "no shit" look before saying, "Yeah, this is it."

It was all I could do not to laugh. She starts tumbling along the lyrics of Mockingbird, trying to save face which was just more funny.

After Mockingbird, Sam was understandably bored with the direction his music had been driven and started playing the kind of stuff that he had been playing before. So we all just went back to talking.

And then Melissa had no attention so she asked everyone if they had tattoos. Dylan, Tyler, and Sam all said no. And then there was an awkward silence where I think she expected them to reciprocate asking if she had any tattoos, which they obviously had no intention of doing. So she took it upon herself to say, "Well, I have one."

And then Tyler said a dismissive, "Cool," which also made me want to laugh but I held it together somehow.

Sam, however, took pity on the poor girl and asked, "What is it?"

Back in February, Melissa and I got the same tattoo. It's a small word in script with a bird flying off the end. So white girl. I'm not exactly proud of that tattoo, but hey, it's alright. The only difference is that Melissa got hers on her bikini line and I got mine under my left breast.

Given the opportunity she was seeking, Melissa said, "Here, I'll show you." She then proceeded to stand up off the couch and pull down the side of her jeans just enough to see the top of her "v" and her tattoo. Which, I mean, was kind of slutty. She has had a boyfriend for about six months at thing point. Don't go flashing your cooter to random guys you've only met once.

Anyway, they all saw it and said some variation of "That's cool."

Then Dylan said, "Hey, Isa has the same tattoo!" I'd shown him mine a few weeks back when we were hanging out on a smoke break.

Melissa did a dismissive wave and let the "Yeah..." that came out of her mouth just kind of trail off.

Then Tyler turned to me and asked me all sorts of questions about my tattoo: did it hurt? Was it expensive? Where did I get it? Every time I answered one of his questions, Melissa would give her variation of the answer to that same question. And every time she started talking, Tyler and I shared a look.

And I know that this story makes me sound like a terrible friend, but I just can't take her shit anymore. It's so nice to have someone who was born on this high horse be taken down a peg. And a few weeks later, although I didn't know this at the time, we wouldn't even be friends anymore. So what's the point in faking it?

Eventually, Melissa and I left Dylan's. She went back to her apartment and I went back to my dorm.

The next weekend, I was at work with Dylan when he invited me to come over on Sunday to watch football and kick back a few beers. We talked about it for a few minutes and hammered out some details. Finally, as the conversation was ending, he says, "Isa, can you just promise me one thing?"

I scrunched my eyebrows and gave him a confused look because I had no idea where he was going with that. Nevertheless, I said, "Sure."

He looked almost apologetic when he said, "Please just... don't bring Melissa."

But there was no need to look apologetic because my cheeks hurt from grinning so much when I said, "Promise."

Shane

Sometimes, when I’m feeling down, I like to make fantasy lives in my head.

I think we all kind of do that. You know, when you’re trying to fall asleep and you can’t so you start to think about what life would be like if things were better. And, usually, they all have a similar quality - whether it’s always starring the same person or in the same place or there’s always something different about you in that fantasy.




When I have these fantasies, I'm usually with the same person - my ex-boyfriend Shane.

I met Shane when I was volunteering as a candy striper at the hospital in the city my freshman year of high school. We met the summer afterwards. He was cool and older and hauntingly mysterious. Everything a freshly fifteen girl wants in a guy.

The two of us both got lucky with the worst section of the hospital you could volunteer at - the trauma ward. There were people that fell off ladders, people recovering from heart attacks, and even one chick that I think was having a nervous breakdown. They kept her in a bed with a net around it.

Anyway. Shane and I would go around the trauma ward, door to door, getting patients their drinks, restocking glove boxes and just having conversations with them.

One day, when we were stuck in the stock room refilling ice buckets, we started talking. And I have never clicked with someone so well. Never had such an easy conversation. Never talked to anyone who just got me right off the bat.

A few weeks later, he asked me out on a date. So, I said okay. You see, Shane lived on King Street in the city which is huge because that means he's packing some dough. Or at least, his family is. So a pretty, mysterious boy with money? I was fifteen and officially a sucker.

We dated all summer and I never told anyone about him. Not my family, not my friends, not even the stranger on the side of the road. There was something about him that I couldn't shake. Something that I didn't want to share. He was mine and mine alone and having something that was wholly mine was exhilarating.

A few months went by and I was in heaven. He was mine, I was his, and we were happy. There was something about being with him that made me feel dangerous and unpredictable. It was a great feeling.

But, as it tends to happen, something went wrong about six months after we met. A week before Christmas, we got into our first fight.

We were sitting on the couch at his aunt's house and watching a movie, which we tended to do a lot, when he asked, "So what does your family do for the holidays?"

"Well, on Christmas Eve, we all hitch on up to grandparents' house on the lake and open up presents at night and drink eggnog. It's probably my favorite night of the year," I told him.

"Was there an invitation in there?"

When he asked me this, my heart stopped for a minute. I wasn't really sure how to reply because it sounds super bitchy to be like, "Well, considering they have no idea of your existence in my life, no, not really." And he didn't say it to push me, it was obvious in the way he said it with that easy smile of his.

I let him down as easy as I could have in the second I had to think of which way to tackle that question. I told him that I hadn't told my parents that I was seeing someone yet. He was my first boyfriend and I wasn't sure if I was ready for them to meet him.

At this point, I had nothing to worry about with Shane. He was a gentleman whose father was a doctor and was on the fast track to medical school, for God's sake. He was a total catch, any parents would be proud. But I wasn't ready to stop being selfish with him yet.

And after I said that, I got something I wasn't prepared for. Shane got angry. I've seen Shane ticked off - when he left his phone at home or when his aunt told him to empty the dishwasher before he left. But I had never seen him truly angry before the moment he decided that I didn't want my parents to meet him because I was ashamed of him. Which wasn't the case at all.

Before I knew it, he was screaming at me. And that scared me and made me go into the defensive, so I was screaming back. And then I said the wrong thing.

"I was never ashamed of you, Shane, but now you're really going to give a reason to!"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, his hand was around my bicep and he threw me to the ground. My back hit the coffee table and then I just kind of starfish-ed next to it.

I expected him to automatically realize what he did and apologize for it. But that didn't happen. Instead, he stood over me, straddling me with the hardest look I've ever seen in anyone's eyes and said, "You don't want me to give you a fucking reason to, Isa. Trust me."

I was scared. And I was heartbroken. I was so thrilled to be in this relationship with someone who I honestly cared about and all of a sudden, it was gone. He wasn't the person I thought he was.

And then, all of a sudden, he was again.

After he stared at me with those hard eyes for a few seconds, I let a single tear slip out. As soon as it started falling from my eye, his eyes flickered to it and his face lost all the hardness.

He stopped straddling me and knelt down by my side just apologizing over and over again, trying to help me up. I automatically sat up and scooted away from him, telling him that I was more than capable of getting up by myself.

I got up on my own, brushed myself off and said, "What the fuck, Shane?"

All he said was, "I'm so sorry," with remorse in his eyes and voice.

But I wasn't fucking having it. I was hurt. I was confused. But, above all, I was fucking pissed. I was livid. How dare he? Who did he think he was? I actually liked this guy and he just threw me against the table because I made a comment? Are you fucking kidding me?

"You're fucking right you're sorry!" I exclaimed with spite turning my tongue black.

"Don't cuss at me, Isa. Don't do that," he said sharply. His anger was back. And mine was replaced with fear.

"Okay," I said softly.

We didn't talk much after that. We sat down on the couch again and watched the movie. But for the next hour while we were both definitely not paying any attention at all to whatever fucking movie was playing, I winced every time I saw Shane so much as a take a deep breath. 

As soon as the credits started to roll, I asked Shane to drive me home. Which he did in silence.

And this is the kicker - this is why I've made myself change so much over the past few years. I was weak. I was so fucking weak for this boy that I thought I might have fallen in love with. I had crumbled in to a shell of myself in just a few short hours. I went from an equal partner in a happy relationship to the submissive partner in an abusive one.

I thought that the next time I saw him, things would go back to normal. I was hopeful for it. I thought this was just a one-time things brought on by his own insecurities.

And that is why when I stepped out of the car, I pathetically asked Shane if I would still see him that following weekend after Christmas.

I thought I saw a smile flirting at his lips when he replied with a simple, "Yeah."

Ghosts

There’s so little that I really know. I don’t know who I am anymore. I feel like the ghost of a total stranger. There are things I want to ask, things I want to share, things I want to know are true beyond a shadow of a doubt.

But I think I’m finally starting to understand that maybe I’m not supposed to ask, share, or know those things yet. Maybe I am the ghost of a stranger - the person I used to be. Who I was and who I am are such opposite people that when I look back on everything that has happened in the past two years, my head starts to spin. And I start to imagine what might have happened to me if I hadn’t changed. Maybe I’d be happier. Maybe I’d be more stable. Maybe I’d have more friends. Maybe I’d be more confident. Maybe I’d make better decisions. I don’t know.

But I think that’s one of life’s greatest moments. When you realize that every small decision you make is a big decision. The decision to stop being friends with someone. Or which college you’ll go to. Or if you’ll go home for that one weekend. Or if you’ll work at this place or that. We all make decisions like that. And those decisions plant the path ahead.

I can’t see very far down the path that I’m walking, but I can see the twists and the turns. And although I’m terrified that one twist may land me back to the start or that one turn may be too sharp, I’m also ecstatic that I have a path in the first place.

And I just hope my life turns out to be one hell of an adventure.

Teenage Girl Drama

Y'all. I am so in love. I’m in love with someone I know deep in my heart will never love me back. I may be “better” than him in some of the ways that matter - I’m more responsible, smarter, hard-working. But he is fucking gorgeous. And, yeah, we’re friends. But how long is that going to last? Until school lets out? Until one of us gets a significant other? Until one of us finally admits that we like each other?

And that’s the thing - I know that he likes me. At least a little bit. At least I know he’s not totally repulsed by me.

See, the thing that blows is that the first guy that liked me slipped through my fingers. Another liked me but he had a girlfriend. Another one liked me but I couldn’t bring myself to care for him the same way. The last liked me and I just kept being a bitch to him until he got over it and decided that I wasn’t worth the trouble.

And all that I dealt with when I had to. Yeah, the first took a little more time. But I got over when the time came for me to take my head out of the sand and face facts - I missed my window of opportunity.

But this guy. This fucking guy. I like him so much, he’s all I think about. He is who I want to spend my day with. He’s the guy I want to watch football with and show him my paintings and my writing and cook for. He makes me want to do the things I enjoy because a part of me just knows he’d enjoy them too.

But I’m a fucking coward. And I know that. I know that I’ll never have the courage to just invite him over for a blunt or ask him to see a movie with me. I’m a coward.

With the right hair and make-up, I’m okay. A solid six, at least. But I do this all the time and I know we’re all guilty of it: when we see couples out in public, we automatically judge them for the way we look together.

And when I tall, big girl like me walks in with a 6’3” man that looks like God took his time on him, people are going to wonder how a girl like me snagged a man like him.

And that’s the thing. I don’t want to snag him. I’m sick of snagging guys. I want a guy to snag me. I want a man to wake up to my face every morning and think, “Man, I’m lucky I found her.” I don’t want them to roll over thinking, “Eh, she’ll do.”

I don't want a relationship that I have to settle for. And I don't want a huge Nicholas Sparks romance either simply because I don't think that it's plausible.

But what I do think is plausible is finding a guy that likes me for me and I'll like him for him. People find a person they fit with all the time. I can't remember the last time I got butterflies with a guy. The last time the sight of that one person sent my heart into overdrive. The last time I stayed up all night thinking about that one guy, hoping he's thinking of me too.

But this one, this one I could imagine the whole nine with. The whole meeting the parents, cooking him dinner, American dream kind of love. And I want it so badly.

But there's a part of me that just knows it will never happen. And that's okay - that's fine. I just have to convince myself that I'm worth that kind of love before I get into the business of trying to convince anyone else.

Romanticizing

I really thought college was for me. Over a year ago, two summers ago, before college, man, that seems like a lifetime ago.

College is supposed to be the best four years of your life. And, don't get me wrong, they're alright. The freedom is nice, the change of scenery is cool, and I love my job. There are plenty of things that I've been blessed with since I dropped everything in my hometown and went to the capital of the state three hours away. And the fact that I know I should be happy, I should feel blessed, I should have the sun shining out of my ass, it makes me feel worse. Because I'm not always happy and I don't always feel blessed and I certainly don't have the sun shining out of my ass.

But I'm here. And I'm trying to make the conscious decision to just be happy. But I'm fucking not. I should be. All signs point to happiness and I can't fucking grasp it.

Why? What's so terrible in my life that I can't hold on to that feeling? Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.

But it seems lately that I can't drag myself out of bed. I spend my time dreaming about being home in my own bed with my own friends and just watching football with my mom. Those dreams make me yearn for what I can't have anymore. And that's the comfort of knowing that the time I have to leave home is far away enough that I shouldn't worry about it. Well, time caught up with me. And it's here to bite me in the ass.

I think about that moment; the one where I was putting all my shit in boxes and hoisting them off to my car with a shit-eating grin on my face, ready to start my own adventure.  The adventure turned to purgatory.

Maybe I romanticized the idea of college. I thought it would be some lavish, unreachable goal that I had somehow managed to earn and I would be rewarded with mind-blowing new friends and adventures I would spend the next few decade telling stories about.

I have a few stories that I would tell over and over again because they were great times with great people. But when I tell those stories, it's like I'm telling them from a third-party perspective. Like those stories were something I conjured up in my head. Or I story I read somewhere that I pictured myself in the midst of.

There are very few people in this world that I can count on. People that I know I could send an "S.O.S." text to and can expect my phone to ring a second later. And the thing is that I rely on those people. I expect them to never leave my side and be there for me until the day that I no longer need them. And in my mind, I know on some level that that's what will happen.

But in my heart, I know that's not the case. Yes, those people love me. They would do pretty much anything I needed them to do as long as I ask. But I'm not their first choice.  I'm not the person that they sit around at a party or a hookah bar or a bonfire and think, "Man, this would be so much more fun if Isa was here." No, I'm not that person.

Sure, they love me. Because it's convenient for them to love me at this moment.

But what if it wasn't. What if I moved out of state? Would I move out of mind? What if I dropped them completely? Would they miss me? Or would I just play a small role in a little anecdote they told at a dinner party a decade from now?

I like to believe the best in people because I truly believe that every person strives to be the best version they can of themselves. But, I could be wrong.

There are times that I look in the mirror and I don't like what I see. But I don't try very hard to change the person staring back at me. I no longer possess the motivation to seek the better person in me. I'm sure I'm not the only one. Giving people the benefit of the doubt is what I like to do. But maybe I'm just romanticizing the idea of the human ability to be different, be better.

Silhouette

And your friends
are they dangerous?
And if they are
then how much?
And your friends
are the glamorous?
And if they are
I've lost interest.

Silhouette, loose sundress
low sunset, baby.
Desert heat
come with me
just one drink.
Thirsty?
This city ain't safe at sundown.

I can't describe the feeling that this song brings me.

Everyone has one of those songs. The song that you listen to when you want to be transported to a easier, simpler time. This was one of the only songs I listened to the spring break of my freshman year in college. That was one of the greatest weeks of my life.

When I listen to this song, I go back in time. I live my life in this song for just a few minutes.

This song is more than a song. It's a soundtrack. It's the sound of the waves crashing on the beach right outside my window. It's inhaling the smoke of a much-needed cigarette on a balcony. It's a lukewarm cup of coffee at eleven in the morning when I finally get my lazy ass out of bed.  It's the laughter of my best friends on four hour car rides. It's the breeze through my hair because it's finally warm enough to drive with the windows down.  This song is my own little piece of heaven. My own little piece of mind.

When I'm going out of my mind wondering what's next or who's next or where I am, I play this song and I remember. I remember that what or who is next isn't all that important. I remember that I am on this Earth and no matter where on this Earth I am, I have the power to be happy.

There are always going to be people on the planet that grind my gears. There are always going to be situations that I wish I didn't have to go through. There are always going to be doubts. There is always going to be that little voice in the back of my head telling me that maybe I'm not good enough for anyone or anything.

But there is also always going to be this damn song.

And when I find myself in the company of those people or in those situations, when I have those doubts and that insecurity to worsen it, I will come back to this song. I will listen to it and it will cleanse me. That doubt and insecurity will flood my system and I will be who I am once again. A better person than I was a moment before because I have grounded myself.

Here at school, I am not grounded. I am not myself. I lose myself when I am here. I feel like the ghost of a total stranger. And it's not fucking fair. I want to be who I am. I want to be the person everyone thinks I am. The friendly girl with the optimistic lifestyle and cynical jokes. And to an extent, that is who I am. But that's not all of it.

I'm a liar. I'm judgmental. I can hold a grudge like nobody's business. I'm fake as fuck. I'm more of a bitch than I think anyone will ever know. And I hate it, but that's who I am.  I'll talk behind your back and smile to your face. And it's so fucking fucked up. I wish I wasn't like that but I don't know how to change. I want to go forward up this hill but I'm stuck in reverse and I can't shift gears. But I want to. You have no idea how badly I want to. And maybe that's the first step.

And maybe holding on to the feeling I get when I hear this song will help. I just hope it doesn't slip through my fingers.

Connor

So, a few days ago, I slept with this guy that I probably shouldn't have. He was my sister's good friend and I'm really close to my sister.  See, he's also a lot older - seven years older, to be exact. I mean, that's a huge maturity gap. I'm still a teenager and he's in his mid twenties.

So let me tell y'all the story.

In May, I had just gotten out of my first year of college and my sister and I decided to take a road trip for a couple days to the beach. First, we stopped at her friend's house (we'll call him Connor) so she could get some weed. She's a huge pothead. I'm not a big smoker, but I'm used to it. So anyway, we stop at Connor's house because that's who she buys weed from. He comes out and makes the deal with her or whatever, introduces himself while my sister introduces me and then me and my sister were off to better beachy days.

A few minutes into the trip, I made an off-hand comment like, "Well, he's a cutie, isn't he?" and my sister got all grossed out and said that she didn't think so at all.

I'm gonna spare y'all the details, but pretty much my sister told Connor that I thought he was cute and then he found and added me on Facebook. We messaged for a little bit back and forth before my sister found out. She was pissed. She's very protective of me because she's older and she's always kind of been my watch guard. She said things about him not going anywhere in life and he's too old and blah blah blah. I should have listened.

Anyway, when we got back from the beach, Connor and my sister got a lot closer and he spent a lot of time at our house. Connor and I made a lot of jokes about sleeping together and stuff in front of my sister because we knew it ticked her off.

Then, as in any good story, there was a turning point. Connor was at my house working on my sister's car after it was giving her problems when she had to go to work. She took my dad's car while Connor finished up on hers. When my sister left, my mother was cooking dinner so she made Connor a plate. The four of us had dinner around the table - me, Connor, and my parents. It was so fucking awkward.

After dinner, Connor asked me if I wanted to go outside on my back porch with him to smoke a cigarette. Naturally, I said okay.

We had a nice conversation out on the porch - talking about everything and nothing in particular. When the conversation started to falter, I made a comment about wanting to go swimming really badly. Connor told me that his neighborhood had a pool and if I really wanted to go swimming, I could tell my parents I was going to my best friend Justin's house to go swimming and instead just go to his. We couldn't tell my parents I was going to his house because they would undoubtedly tell my sister. So I was all hell yeah and he was all alright let's do it.

He left after saying goodbye to my parents and I waited about a half hour before telling them that I was going to Justin's to swim. I got to his house around six and we walked to the pool.

The first hour or so, it was just the two of us in the pool. And, let me fucking tell you, you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. We were touching and playing footsies while we had a cigarette off the edge of the pool. I would put my feet on his knees and push off and then he would grab my feet and pull me back so I was straddling him. It was flirty and so much fun.

But after that first hour, two families came in to swim. They stayed for a while and we toned it down - just swimming and touching occasionally.  No big thing.

When the families left, we talked about leaving, too.  We were just chilling in the pool, talking while we were hanging on the side of it. Then he turned towards me and leaned in slowly. Before I knew it, we were making out against the side of that pool for a good few minutes.

Then he pulled away and was like, "We should probably get back now."

So we went back. He went to his house and I went to mine. We went swimming a few more times just the two of us, but we never kissed or anything after that.

It was really confusing because I felt like he actually liked me and that maybe he wanted something physical, which I was totally down for. I spent a few days wondering what had happened and being too cowardly to ask for any answers.

For the next three weeks, nothing happened between the two of us. We acted like it never happened. I, of course, told my friends that it had happened and asked what it all meant.

Eventually, I decided that we actually just didn't like each other - and that was fine. Because I think I realized that I actually don't like him like that at all. I realized that everything my sister said about hime as true - he's too old for me, he's not going anywhere in life, and honestly, he's not exactly a Calvin Klein model. Sorry not sorry.

Now, it's the end of June, just after my nineteenth birthday, and my sister moved away last week. Ironically enough, she moved to beach where I lost my virginity. Haha, I guess everything does come back full circle.

I honestly believe that the reason that Connor didn't initiate anything further between he two of us is because of my sister. I think he knew that his relationship with her and my relationship with her, separately, was more important than the relationship that we wanted to have with each other - which would probably only be about sex anyway.

The reason I think this is because three days after my sister left and the night after my nineteenth birthday, Connor messaged me on Facebook asking me what was up. I replied, telling him I just got home and the asking if he wanted to go swimming the next day because it was already like one o'clock in the morning. He messaged me back asking if I just wanted to go over to his house right now and hang out. I said sure because I think that somewhere in the back of my head, I knew what was going to happen that night. We could both deny it however we wanted, but on some level,we were attracted to each other and I think we both wanted it.

So I threw on some pajama pants and a wife beater and went over. I messaged him to let him know that I was outside and then he let me in.

It's funny because I honestly thought that we would both just deny for an hour or so and then maybe after that he'd end up fucking me on the couch or something. I thought we could both last long enough to play a few games with each other. Apparently not because this is how it went down:

I went inside his house and we were making small talk around the counter in the kitchen for like maybe three minutes about dumb things - my birthday, how my sister was doing in her new apartment, blah blah blah.

After a few minutes, I sat down on the couch and started watching whatever he was watching before I came over, which was Freaky Friday which kind of made me want to giggle but I reigned it in.  He followed me over and sat next to me and kept talking. I said something sassy that I don't even remember anymore and he started playfully like patting my face sort of just to annoy me. I went to push his hand off my face, but he just wrapped his arm around my shoulders instead and pulled me down so my head was on his shoulder. He started playing with my hair with the hand that was wrapped around my shoulders.

I started to lift my head off his shoulders and he turned his head towards me. Two seconds later, our face were attacking each other. I'm a big fan of kissing. I like to kiss people - men, mostly, but I've kissed quite a few girls. Not sexually, but it wasn't terrible.

I turned towards him, and he turned towards me. He pulled one of my legs around his waist while we kissed. Then he pushed it away from him so my legs were spread. Now I'm not really into writing erotic novels so I'm gonna just skim over the dirty details for now. Basically, we were rounding second when he finally pulled away and suggested we go find somewhere more comfortable.

We scaled the stairs quickly and he pulled me into the guest bedroom at the top of the stairs. It was crazy deja vu too because while I was giving him head, I stopped for a second to ask if he had a condom. He said no. Now, it's been about half a year since I've had sex and I was like, you know what, I don't even care, he can pull out. Ladies: never, ever, do that. Do as I say, not as I do.

So we fucked in his guest bedroom for a while. And, let me tell you, it was nothing spectacular. Which kind of sucks. Because I went behind my sister's back and slept with this guy that I didn't really like, wasn't really attracted to, and didn't really give a shit about. Like, that blows. All that drama and secret-keeping for a lousy lay by a lousy guy. For once, I'd just like to sleep with a guy and not regret it later.

Anyway, we talked a few times after that, but didn't see each other again until three weeks later. We made out in the pool again at like two in the morning. He tried to bone me again but as soon as he got his hands in my bikini bottoms, I shoved his hand out of the way. And it got all sorts of awkward after that so I lied and told him I had to work early in the morning and left.

And here's the kicker: on this day, less than a week later, I checked my Facebook and guess what, y'all? He's got a new girlfriend! Yeah. What's up with that? I don't know, but I think the whole thing is fucking hilarious. Oh my God, my life gets better and better by the day. I don't even know what's up with my life anymore. It's just not fair for my life to be so full circle and so easy to write about. In reality, I just overthink everything and need to write it down so it doesn't get lost in my head. I'm a whiny little bitch sometimes. Even I get sick of me. Jesus.

I don't even know if that paragraph had a clear thought pattern but I don't even care anymore.

You know what just really gets me? Every guy I've ever been with has either liked me for me or liked to fuck me. I don't need a prince and I don't need a perfect guy, I just need a decent guy that will like who I am and also want to have sex with me. I don't know when that became too much to ask for.

You know what I mean? It's like I don't need some dude in a suit of armor to come into my suburban neighborhood and say, "May I fornicate with you until you feel immense pleasure, my sweet?" But maybe a guy who wants to take me out on a date before he takes my panties off.  Or a guy who appreciates my long legs AND my long vocabulary.  Like who are all you bitches that took all these guys from the world and can you spare a couple? Because a few of us have met too many bastards to count and we're losing hope quick. So if y'all could just throw us a pool noodle before we drown in the deep end, that'd be totally aces.

Senior Year

What's up, y'all?!

I have so many stories for you guys it's fucking nuts. It's not like my life is the coolest thing since sliced bread or anything, but it ain't half bad. And there's rarely a dull moment, especially now.

Rereading the posts I made almost two years ago, I can say that not much has changed in my personality since I was sixteen till now, at the ripe age of eighteen. However, I am at college which is super cool. Now, going along with the whole "anonymous" thing, I'm not gonna tell you which college I'm at. However, I will tell you that it's a big sport school - Division 1. Oh yeah.

But hold up, I'm gonna back up to senior year right quick. I'm gonna lay out this whole story for you. The story of how I lost all my friends without meaning to. It's been a couple years so I'm pretty good at distancing myself from the situation and realizing that maybe it was the best thing to happen. Because now, a year and a half later, I'm happier than I ever was with that group of friends. Except, I know that in my last post, I said that I was no longer friends with the girl I went to the beach with that summer I lost my virginity. That's not really true anymore because I spent all last week at that same beach house with her and our other friend for spring break. Haha, we came back together and built each other back up throughout senior year. And don't worry, I'm totally gonna write about last week.

For now, though, let's stick to senior year. If I'm being honest with myself, this all really started the summer before - the summer I lost my virginity. See, my whole life, I've been mostly friends with guys. The friends that I had outside my group of best friends were all boys.  They were a year older, though, and left for college already and I didn't get to see them as much. I was feeling a lack of testosterone in my group of friends and needed my fix.

Luckily, I had an in. My friends and I are really into music, especially hardcore and pop punk. I'm more into pop punk, though, and most of my friends are into hardcore. Where we live, there's a huge local scene for teens that are into music the way that we were. At the time, one of my friends, we'll call her Lisa, was dating a guy, Tim, that played drums for one of the local bands we knew. He also went to our really small school. So, we ended up spending a lot of time with him and the other two guys in his band. Tim's other band members were guys named Brandon and Glen. Brandon played guitar and sang for their band while Glen played the bass. Now that I'm not really associated with them anymore, I have qualms in saying that they were a really shitty band.

One of Lisa's best friends is a girl named Abby. They had been really close since the eighth grade - I mean, four years. Abby is really nice and pretty and Brandon took a liking to her from the first ever bonfire I had at my house with all of us. They became a "thing" rather quickly considering she'd never had a boyfriend or even kissed a boy before. One of the many downfalls of going to a school as small as ours - you had to find your own man candy. Boo.

Anyway, now you had Brandon dating Abby and Lisa dating Tim. I ended up getting really close to Glen. We were very compatible in a friendly way, which was exactly what I needed - a no strings friendship with a guy. We were inseparable pretty much all summer.

We all kind of skated along for a while, happy with our new-found friendships and relationships. There were about three other girls besides me, Lisa, and Abby who completed our "group," including the one I went to the beach with. We all hung out a lot and did pretty much everything together.

Later, though, things started to go awry. Lisa got upset with Brandon - for what? I don't remember - which meant that Tim had to be mad at Brandon. Which Glen thought was stupid, so Glen was also mad at Brandon.  The whole thing was 50 shades of stupid.

What happened next was what you'd expect - I defended Glen and Abby defended Brandon. Lisa had no right to be mad at Brandon, and I would stick to my choice of defending Glen until my dying day because I know it was the right decision. However, my two other best friends in that group, Lexie and Anna, took Lisa's side. They weren't big fans of Brandon either and decided that if Abby and I were hanging out with him, they weren't hanging out with us.

Now, being teenage girls, all this fighting was never vocalized between us as a group. It's all been very sly and it took me a while to realize what was really going on. By the time I did, though, it was too late. All my best friends, except Abby, were mad at me and they wouldn't hear me out.

At the end of the summer, right before school started, we had a senior retreat with our graduating class.  All 80 or so of us jumped on a couple busses and headed to some camp ground to sleep in cabins and go hiking.  My school was weird. It was really fun, though, gotta admit.

Anyway, since our fighting wasn't exactly spoken, my best friends and I shared a cabin with another clique.  Anna and I even shared bunk beds. The trip was fun - especially because Tim, Brandon, and Glen were all just not there. We had girl time.  We gossiped, we played pranks on the boys, we sang Bohemian Rhapsody in the shower. We had a good time. And maybe that's what we needed - a trip away from all the memories, relationships, and responsibilities we've built in our town.

Of course, the senior retreat couldn't last forever. Eventually, we returned home and had to continue going to class.

The Friday after we came back from the trip was Lisa's birthday and she was having us over for burgers. She told us this plan on the bus ride back from the trip. Abby and I let her know that we'd be there, but Brandon and Glen's new band was premiering that night and we had to be at that show by 8:30. This show was planned two months prior to her birthday dinner and Abby and I had to stick around for our respective boyfriend and best friend.

Lisa wasn't too happy about that, but just told us that burgers were going on the grill at 5, so be at her house by then. We agreed to meet everyone there.

Friday, we all met at Lisa's house - me, Abby, Anna, and Lexie. We ate burgers, had a water balloon fight, ate cake, and opened presents. By the time all that was over and done with, it was creeping up on eight o'clock and Anna, Lexie, and Lisa were talking about watching a movie. Since Abby and I knew how Lisa felt about Brandon, we didn't want to make a big show about leaving early to see him. So instead, we tactfully said that we couldn't stay for the movie but "Happy Birthday, Lisa!"

Abby and I left and made it to the show just before 8:30. However, just as we were walking in, Abby got a phone call from Lexie.

"Hey, what's up?" she answered.

"Where'd you and Isa go?" Lexie asked us.

"We had to go to the Blue Room. Brandon and Glen's band is playing their first show, remember?" We had all gotten the invitation on Facebook, after all.  And we mentioned it before we agreed to attend Lisa's party.

"Well, that's kinda shitty, don't you think? To ditch your best friend for your boyfriend of, what, three months?" Lexie asked condescendingly.  We could hear Lisa in the background say something that sounded like, "Yeah, real shitty!"

Abby and I were confused because it's not like some things take precedent or anything, but we had agreed to coming out and supporting our friends at the very beginning of the summer. I mean, this was really important to them and we were really important to them, so of course we would want to go to the show. Have you ever been put in a situation like that before? I'm sure you have. It's like you're damned if you do and damned if you don't because no matter which way you allow yourself to be pulled, you're gonna be a bad friend to someone. Those are hands down some of the worst situations you can find yourself in.

Which, of course, is exactly where I found myself. Because that's how life works.

Abby tried to explain it all away by saying, "We told Lisa when she invited us that we would have to go to this, too. We stayed for the important parts, anyway. We just missed the movie."

From there, it was pretty much all of the same shit - Lexie trying to vilify Abby and I for having friends outside of their circle and Abby trying to explain why it shouldn't be that big of a deal. Honestly, the whole thing kind of came out of nowhere. I mean, Abby and I weren't stupid - we knew that our friends weren't particularly big fans of Glen and Brandon, but we always kept them separated. We never forced them to hang out with us or invited them places we knew our other friends would be.  We didn't even talk about them in front of our fiends. We tried our hardest to keep them separated. But what really separated them was the fact that our girl friends gave us an unspoken ultimatum - them or Brandon and Glen.

See, that's something that boys just never do. I've never had a guy friend so jealous of my girlfriends that he felt the need to distance me from them. That's just one of those crazy things that girls do. I've probably done it once or twice, not that I can remember them specifically, but I apologize to whoever I've done it to. Because in situations like the one I found myself in, there is only one possible choice - I chose my boys.

I had history with those girls. We had some great times and some better-than-great times. But we also had our heartbreaks. I've been dealing with a lot and for some reason, in that group of friends, I could never find solace. No one would hold my hand, listen to me cry, and say "It's gonna be okay." No, instead, the would act uncomfortable and shy away from any form of emotion. Also, I enjoy being pretty. I like to feel pretty, just like I'm sure every other girl does. But to them, that was the only thing that mattered after a while. We couldn't just watch a movie, we'd watch a movie while painting our nails and straightening our hair. We'd do at-home wax treatments and only go out to eat if they had something organic and we burned enough calories in our hot-yoga session to pleasure ourselves with veggie burgers and zucchini fries.  After three years, I think I had had enough. We had history, but I didn't know if I wanted to have a future with them.


There's one hell of a lot more to this story, but I don't think I have the strength to write about it right now. I'll make a part two soon, promise.