Got bored, so bear with me as I do a meme. >.<
1) Pick 10 people.
2) List 1-10 below the rules what you want to say to each one of these friends and a plz without disclosing their names
3)You can't use the same plz twice
4) Post and tag 5 friends.
Well, well. I should've seen this coming. You were right, you know, about much more than I'd like to admit.
Took me a while to see you're not the same girl I fell for in 7th grade. Ha, remember the hacking thing? Okay, how could you not? It took pretty much NO CONVINCING at all to get you to go for it. But now, if I mentioned anything similar at all, there's no way you'd ever, ever do it.
I've changed since then, too. Become more hardened, less naive, a tad crazier, a bit more shallow, and although I hate to admit it, a lot stupider. Okay, so, it's been two years, logically speaking I'd be wiser, right? Nah. I lost track of priorities and all.
If I could go and push rewind on eighth grade, go back to being twelve years old on the cusp of thirteen, I would. Things would be different if I had made a different decision one rainy afternoon in early September 2011. I'd go to a different high school than I attend right now.
The girl I am right now, the girl you are right now, they don't fit well. That girl I was, that girl you were, back in 7th grade, they fit quite well together. Well...no. I'd be lying if I didn't admit there were so many times you hurt me, either with your negligence because you were so effing obsessed with #9, or with your insensitive words.
And when I got you back in December 2012, I thought things could change. I thought I'd changed, I thought you'd changed. For a while, they were great. You were so sweet, and I was heads-over-heels in love. But...as time wore on, it became a strain. So many times I bit back words, or was silent, when you hurt me. I probably was snappy towards you too. I don't know, you weren't very specific about that part when you dumped me. And after the breakup, I didn't have the heart to ask.
I looked back on our relationship. It could've worked, if we'd been more honest and open with each other. But we're both relatively private people, and I like to bottle things up. So. It didn't work. And that's that.
If you wanted to try again, I would be willing. But you don't. I lost you. I blame myself for messing up.
The worst/best part?
I still love you.
It's been a rough year for you. No, it's been a rough past four years for you. I have to blame myself for a considerable amount of that agony and frustration of yours.
I'm sorry, for eighth grade and all. I was wrong, I was wrong, I'm so, so, sorry.
You've been such an excellent friend. You're wonderful. I know I'm so self-absorbed around you, so many times I've felt like I'm just talking about myself, and I try to bring the conversation back to you but then you just clam up. I can't tell what you're thinking.
I'll admit, I tried. Maybe I didn't try hard enough. Maybe I felt obligated to like you back, but it didn't work. I learned you can't force yourself to fall for someone.
I want you to find love. You deserve it. You deserve someone better than me. Who am I? I'm a messed-up chick with a taste for truancy and fire. So. Go out there and find someone who can love you the way you should be loved.
That's not me. I wish it could be. But it's not.
So! Hello, bestie! Ha, I don't even remember how we became friends. It was a couple weeks into the 2012-2013 school year, you were sitting next to me in 1st period English, you said you liked my poem, I said I liked yours. Something like that. We grew closer in choir (remember the retreat in November? Da-YUM, girl, that was so fun, and remember how R's annoying chicken alarm clock woke the entire cabin up?)
You've been a fabulous friend. One of the only people in our high school I really know I can depend on. It's true, the language barrier gets in the way sometimes, it's difficult to explain things to you. >.< But I know you'll keep any secret of mine. Remember how you slipped up and told those three kids about something I wanted to hide? I didn't really mind, because they were friend-acquaintances of mine and they weren't gossips, but you still beat yourself up the entire morning over it.
And! You're joining IB Mandarin Chinese 7-8 next year! Yay, we'll be in the same language class! I'm so happy so E and I won't be the only sophomore girls in the class!
See ya on Monday. Can I do your math homework for you?
I wonder where you are now. Last I heard, super popular at some high school in Beverly Hills, California. Cross-country team--I remember all those times we'd pull pranks and run away giggling, you were much faster than me. I still remember the way you'd run, arms out, legs tucked in. You looked really cool doing it, and it's so stupid now, but for the next year after fifth grade, I ran like that. Which was ridiculous, as it's not very efficient. But I was eleven years old. Sue me.
I see now I was kind of a side-project, something for you to tinker with. You lied to me a lot. You used me. Were we ever really friends? I don't know. You told me we'd stay in touch. Ha. I haven't spoken with you for over a year.
You were my first real best friend. I looked up to you so much. You were cool, and beautiful, and driven, and smart, and popular, and...everything I wasn't. I was the awkward kid with messy hair and glasses.
All that talk you had about suicide, about that friend of yours who committed suicide by swallowing pills, about cutting, all that. It really affected me. I won't say how. But it messed me up, even now. Four years later.
Yeah, screw you.
You sit in my English class. Across the room. You think you're safe. You think I've forgiven you for all you've done. You think I'll shut up and not say anything. You think we're cool now, everything's fine.
No way. I still remember. Every single damn word. And if I DON'T remember? Well, a quick search across the Net would certainly dig up what I wanted to know, if I chose to relieve all the awful, awful things you said and did.
I have to pretend I like you, and I can't say anything negative against you. You're popular, people think you're goofy and hilarious. I probably would too, if it weren't for sixth grade. Hell, maybe I'd even have a crush on you.
….Nah, I'm not THAT far gone.
I don't wish for revenge. I don't wish horrible luck on you. I hope you have a decent life.
The most I can do is just live as best as I can. That's all I can do.
We sit at the same lunch table every single day. We're on the bus together. I still have no clue who you really are.
You're quiet. Silence is golden, you take that rule way too far. I know I'm definitely the loudest out of our little crew, so many times at lunch it seems like I'm the only one talking, babbling on because I can't stand the emptiness of silence. You sit there and stare.
I wish you'd speak. I feel like you sit with us only because it's better than sitting alone. I don't know what you're thinking. I try to get you to speak, but you don't say much. I feel like I'm excluding you, then I feel guilty.
Just. Come on. Say something. Please.
I'd like to know who you really are.
I was using you all through eighth grade. We both knew that, but neither of us said anything, because I didn't feel like it and you just didn't give a damn. I wanted to forget about my old friends, and when you came to middle school, I jumped. You seemed nice at first, but as time wore on, you got tougher. You'd say insensitive things, you were so arrogant, it made me sick. But I still stuck with you, because running away was easier than confronting my problems.
I want to be genuine friends now, as you've gotten more mature, and so have I. But it's evident you just tolerate me, you don't actually like me much. But that's okay. I can live with that.
I still have no idea what your sexuality is, by the way. It confused me all through eighth grade and it puzzles me now. Mind giving me a hint?
You were the first, really, truly, homophobic person I knew. I mentioned #1 once in a conversation, about how she was lesbian. You immediately blurted, "That's disgusting." I was a bit taken back, first because you seemed like a mild-mannered, nice person, and second because I wasn't exactly 100% pure straight myself.
But I liked you. You were a good friend. You always wanted me to stop cursing, which obviously I didn't ever do, but despite conflicting beliefs on a lot of things, you were sweet and gentle. And after all the arguing and fighting with my other friends, I needed someone mild and kind.
I guess I always liked you more than you liked me. We didn't attempt to keep in touch after eighth grade ended.
I saw you in April. I was at your school. You were going inside the Mormon church, and I caught you right before you went in. But...you treated me so coldly. And I knew you'd heard from #7 that I was with #1. And I knew you thought I was disgusting.
I had doubts myself, you know. Partially because of you. Was I being completely horrible by falling for a girl, dating a girl, kissing a girl? I don't think so, but there was--is--always that sliver of doubt.
I wish we'd stayed in touch and remained friends. But that's not the way it went. That's not the way life went.
Best luck to you.
First, disclaimer. I don't know you. Not really. I couldn't ever claim to have known you. All I really know is what I've heard from others.
That didn't stop me from despising you.
I watched as you ripped #1's heart apart. I had already disliked you from before, because of stupid sixth grade shit I bet you don't even recall, but that was when I really started loathing you. You were pretty, popular, well-liked, athletic, musical, smart, and everything I couldn't be. No wonder she fell for you. She was so obsessed. I was second-best, who she went to when you weren't available.
There are few things in the world I hate more than being second.
The feelings have subsided. Knowing your crap grades--a C in STEM Chem? Really? Come ON.--did help, I will admit. Petty. I know. But it did help.
I don't hate you anymore. You're not my favorite person, but I can tolerate you. I still have no idea why you would dye your hair so many times. Let me get this straight: normal natural black hair, a light brown, magenta purple, cotton candy pink, purple again, now brown. Okay, but like, what the hell. How is it your hair isn't DEAD from all that treatment?! I guess you're more superficial than any of us realized.
Whatever. It doesn't matter. Not really.
To me, me, me, and me:
Well, you were pretty goddamned stupid, in middle school at least. Firestorm, you were so ridiculous, I went back and read it and LYN WAS YOU, LYN WAS SO YOU, SHE WAS JEALOUS OF RIN (RIN WAS BASED OFF OF #9), MY GOD. All those times you insisted noo, Lyn was #1, okay man you are stupid.
Then eighth grade, yeah, what can I say about that, CONFESS TO #1 ALREADY INSTEAD OF BEING MORONIC. A year filled with angst avoided with one damn decision. Zap.
Ninth grade? Ha. If only you could see me now, barely-turned-fourteen-years-old me. You'd cry, you'd really cry. You'd wonder why the hell I ever dated a GIRL, and #1 out of all girls. You'd wonder why my grades are shit. You'd really wonder why I got in all the trouble I did get into, and you'd sob over all of my mistakes. You'd hate me. You'd really hate me, because you promised yourself that you'd forget about your past and become someone new. But I didn't like that someone new, so I threw off the mask.
And me of four months ago, I'm sorry but sometimes promises are broken. I know. She told you she'd stay forever. Well, you were a bit silly to actually believe that, even if it was just for a little while.
But remember this: you're going to regret the things you didn't do as opposed to the things you did do.
Go for cheer team. We all know you wanted to shake those pom-poms in the air.
Love ya and hate ya.
SO. That was an hour worth of rambling. Huh. I wrote 2,000 words. That's more than I've ever written in the span of 60 minutes, I think.
Sorry if this didn't make ANY SENSE, I'm really disorganized about things like this >.<