In 8th grade I had a friend who was living a depressing life. We would get on Yahoo! Messenger and she would tell me about it every day. (Side note: Her friend told me she liked me. I didn’t want to think much of it because 1) I pretty much knew and 2) I didn’t want a girlfriend at the time (but trust me, I was crushing on girls). The thing that stopped me from liking her back, though, is that she told me about her insecurities. How she didn’t like her body or her face. And so they became the reasons I didn’t like her back.)
I was 14 at the time with little-to-no experience in talking to people and I mean REALLY talking to people. Up to that point, most of my conversations with friends were about video games. I didn’t mind listening to her rant every day and I even told her that I might not know what to say but I’ll always lend her an ear. Again, I was 14 with no conversational skills, so most of the chats ended up with her telling me a problem and me saying “oh” or “ok.” This seemed to be enough until we got to high school and she was able to get rid of her previous reputation as a sad, lonely, weirdo (yes, she actually had that reputation going as far back as elementary school). She was able to do that mainly because it was high school, there are different people from different parts of town, everybody’s a bit more mature, so it’s easier to make friends. One day, she told me about something she did with her friend’s boyfriend. In retrospect, it wasn’t too bad. No one cheated. It was just a bit scandalous. But I went off on her. Yelled about how what she did was wrong or stupid. And she just thought it wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’t there to see what happened, I just tried to imagine what she told me. I guess I thought the worst of it. Some time after, she got a boyfriend, and we somehow got to the point of her telling me “you had your chance” and it made me mad because I didn’t even want that chance before, and I felt that she, herself, ruined that chance anyway by telling me her insecurities. Then it got to another point where she complained about how all I could ever say to her, when she was telling me about her problems, was “oh” and “ok.” I felt wrongly accused of not caring. Because I cared, or I wanted to, but I just didn’t know how to show it.
We became distant after that. But the whole “oh and ok” thing left a lasting impression on me. It made me self-conscious about how I talk to people. For the rest of my time in high school, when anybody would talk to me, specifically girls, I became too afraid to say anything. I had this lingering fear that I would say the wrong thing or wouldn’t say enough. So altogether I just avoided making new friends (or at least being the person to make the first move).
Eventually, I tried to rebuild the friendship I had with that girl. We’d talk before one of our classes (the rooms were right next to each other). And in Sophomore year, I had a renewed sense of appreciation for her. I’d go up to her and hug her just to say hi. We exchanged a few messages on MySpace. But that was pretty much the extent of it. She had to move before Junior year so any progress I felt I was making was put to a halt.
The rest of my time in high school, I made a few friends, and I was very cautious about what I would say. Too cautious. I’d never been good at keeping lasting relationships so pretty much everyone I befriended then is merely a Facebook friend now. I feel like I’ve gotten better socially, it’s just too little, too late. Because now I’m the sad and lonely one. That girl is a Facebook friend. She’s gorgeous. Beautiful. And happy. And it pisses me off.
windows phone is so cute. look at how the face changes when you get messages
"aw you don’t have any messages, it’s okay you’re still special"
"oh shit you got a message you hella speical"
"holy fuck cheese on a ball you hella popular better answer these people"
give me ur address and i’ll rate the way u sleep and the way you bathe