something happened in seventh grade that i have never told anyone at all, and whatever it was that happened, it made me feel like shit and i couldn't be friends with my friends at that time. i coudln't talk. i coudln't smile. i couldn't laugh. like i mean, i could, and i do and i did but i'd almost immediately frown again, or every time i'd laugh, i'd be reminded of them and i'd choke on my own smiles and i'd cry myself to sleep and i'd cry in the shower, and i'd cry on the book i used to write with them in my mind, to the point where i just wanted to finish the book off, and i hated it. i hated eveyr moment of that period in my life. i was doubting myself, i was doubting my entire personality, my entire being as a friend, as a student and everything i did reminded me of them and it doesnt sound that bad but it felt bad and i hated it. i hated it so much. i hated feeling like that. i pushed eveyrone away. i pushed people away. i dont remember most of seventh grade because i didnt do anything memorable then, and i broke down once, in front of all my classmates, and my mom had to take me out to the mall, just us, to try and make me feel better (it didnt) but all i remember was how i hated having my mom know that i cried in class.
But she didnt know about the second time i cried in class, for the same reasons. or the third. or the fourth.
I hated it. I didn't talk to them. i didn't tell them anything. I told no one nothing. and i was fine. it was ok. i was ok.
two years later. here i am. in the exact same spot as before. crying to sleep, having them in my dreams, not wanting to talk to them or finding the motivation to look at the things theyve been doing.
(written on april 26, 2022)
