talking to myself

112521 [friend of many, bestie of none]

Ah, it seems we meet again, those looking through my things after I've become a hero of my times.

It is now approaching a year and 3/4 since the world has been overcome by a deadly virus.

👍

I happen to be writing from my phone rather than my laptop (it's dead and I lost the charger), hense my placing an empty line after every chunk of text.

I don't want to imagine what the computerized version of this entry looks like, so I won't.

In any case, let's get to the title.

Basically, I've been scarred into leaving behind the "this is my bff!!" thing because I've come to realize that I, frankly, am not bsf material.

(However if I do, in fact, become a hero of my times then I bet you all are jealous you were never here to call me your bsf, but in that case, I'd be very flattered and would probably remember it for the rest of my life. But that hasn't happened at this point in my life.)

It all started when I saw someone (2 someones, actually) call oTher someones thEir bsfs and I was never one of the someones. This is disappointing because I really thought I would be a someone, or at least they were someones to me.

I felt awkward upon realizing I had labeled them my bsfs but they did not feel the same.

Now, those of you looking through my things because I have become a hero of my times, I know this sounds relatively selfish or narcissistic or petty, but understand this: I know.

I'm just an emotional little girl at this stage in life, so please cut me some slack.

I think this may be due to the fact that I find it weird to have unreciprocated bsfs.

I also realized today that I would most likely become the forgotten friend, as I am never in anyone's photos.

And that one is completely on me, historians. I never remember to ask, or put myself out there. I should start reminding myself to do that so that this hypothetical future I seem to have laid out before myself fails to become reality.

(I have just revisited my first entry, and I do seem to have mentioned that my friends always hang out without me because, believe it or not, they have friends other than me. But for the most part, they hang out with each other, except without me. We're all vaccinated. It's nearing the deadly virus's 2nd birthday. None of my parents ever got infected. I am beginning to form the iNkling of a thought that it is no longer just my parents' careers that are motivating my friends' actions (if that ever wAs a factor).)

I have just returned from a teary-eyed reflection of my combination of victimitis, over-thinking, and actual flaws.

I lack the closeness my other friends seem to have with each other, even though we've all known each other for the same amount of time.

I am not sure how to go about this plethora of problems, so I will choose to simply nOt go about this plethora of problems at all.

I will leave this here, as it is.

My friends will never see this, anyway, so they'll never know there iS a problem. What suckers. What a sucker I am.

This entry's running a little long, and it is 0044 (again), so I will end this here.

See you in another 5 months (give or take), those of you looking through my things.