Hey guys! If any of you remember my post from last month with Valerie, let's just say it was over and done with like 4 days later. It was a bit immature to blog about it before talking it out, but I feel as though if I didn't post about the situation, it wouldn't have gotten resolved.
Well, mostly. Some bits of it might last a few more weeks.
So what happened was that after the situation first happened, my boyfriend and our friend-- let's call them Charlie and Gavin. Gavin was really upset at me after it-- as anyone would. I was taking someone else's side (who wasn't entirely right). (Well, as everyone was.) I remember texting Charlie and texting Gavin and texting anyone I could think of to get some sense that I hadn't messed up as badly as I thought I had. Some sense that the voices screaming and shouting at me were wrong. Part of me was actually looking for food to fuel those demons. Part of me was looking for less reasons to the question "why not?" I don't know which one was truly me, but I know which side won.
Let me tell you, a reason "why not?" was gone. There was no one up because they were thinking about me. There was no one saying that they loved me that wasn't in the family or friend way. There was no one who had convinced me they loved me. There was no one who had known me since I was snot-nosed and a pest but never got annoyed at me. Charlie threw it all away and I'm not entirely sure what was the exact reason why-- but I can connect the dots.
I'm good now, I promise. But the protectant layer was shed that night.
If I'm not good enough to be broken up with by yourself, that you text your friend to text me? Then fuck the picture I thought would make me happy.
I could try to be my mother's dream. A catholic school poster child, with an angel smile and cookie cutter words and live life abiding to the rules and embrace the stereotype of my cheer team (which were the friends who got into the fight with Valerie); but after Charlie and Gavin and Jan and Julie and Malory and Marie and Trina, there was no need anymore to fight for those you care about because all they do is backstab you; it's middle school. No one cares about you, so I've decided to stop caring about myself.
I'll rot my insides and ditch the nice clothes and Drake; it's back to eyeliner and too-tight-and-too-sexy-for-my-age dresses and kissing boys and girls who don't even know my name.
It's drying my eyes because my eyes don't have room for emotions.
It's realizing that love is no longer being served, and giving the entrée of reality instead.
It's shattering the glass with bleeding knuckles and not letting myself be trapped anymore.
It's called letting go.