the day after tomorrow

i know its for the better(intermission1)

Dear future me,
I hope we're doing ok. How's life? Do you have a boyfriend yet? Sincerly
Bebe :3

I stare down at the page. My eyes start to water. Was that really all I wrote? Do you have a fucking boyfriend? I grumble to myself. How could I be so naive? I know, kill the part of you that cringes, but I'm not exactly wrong. I think I was too worried about dating. This was third grade. I opened up the letter in sixth. I remember feeling super disappointed. I wasted the one chance I had to talk to sixth grade me and all I asked was do I have a boyfriend. I guess Clyde was present at some points, but I don't think that really counts. I remember I actually faked having crushes on kids so I didn't seem weird. They still looked at me funny. They always did. I was always the tallest girl in school(still kind of am-in my grade at least). I was always in the back of photos. Groups in general really. I was the one who hung back in the two person sidewalk. It was kind of my thing though. I thought I was so cool and mature for being taller than the other kids that I didn't realize it made me different. I actually used to brag to the boys that were shorter than me. Then, one year, this really tall boy moved into our grade. I thought we were going to end up with each other. In reality, I was jealous of him. The best way to put it was that I felt "emasculated", even though I'm a teenage girl.

Back to the crushes thing. I always felt the pressure of being the romantic. I was a romantic at heart, just not in reality. I pretended to have crushes on all of these guys, just so I could seem normal. Even back in pre-k. Back then, there was this one kid. I don't remember his name but he did have a really ugly bowl cut. I thought I was soooo special for liking this boy when I was like 6, even though I didn't. I also got bullied a lot then. It reeked, I thought to myself. Her pink furry little UGG boot. The one my "best friend" held up in my face. I was six, and my best friend said that if I didn't smell her shoe we couldn't be friends anymore. I didn't really want to smell it, so I ran and hid. She always found me. I had tears streaming down my face as she shoved that fucking shoe in my face while I was sobbing. I was a wreck. I think that was the first real betrayal I had ever felt, and it certainly wasn't the last.

"I wish you weren't a girl."
My first heartbreak. I suppose it wasn't too surprising. I never really got what I wanted. We used to call her Ferny Bear(a/n-thats actually what we called her don't judge), and she was me and Wendy's best friend. I think both of us liked her. She didn't like either of us though. I had told her about me being bisexual, and she said she wasn't(or couldn't be anyways) because she was Catholic. Those were the next words she uttered to me. At the end of sixth grade, we hugged at the graduation. It was nice. We had fun. Talking, giggling about teachers and silly elementary school drama. She had already started to hang out with the popular girls. The mean ones. She had already ditched her justice shirts and mermaid leggings and transformed into some demon I couldn't even comprehend. As I hugged her, I squeezed a little harder than usual. I guess I figured she'd drop me over the summer and she'd slowly never talk to us again. I was right. It was nice while it lasted though. I'm glad we were friends while we had the chance. I'm glad our cringe phases were able to intersect and intertwine so perfectly. Even if we didn't turn out to be anything. It's weird to see her in the halls. To know she liked mermaids and cold-sholder tops and the color pink. I don't know what her favorite color is anymore. I don't think she recognizes me. But I'll always know her. Or at least the old her. I hope she thinks of me as much as I do of her. I'm so very glad our paths crossed, no matter how briefly.

*Wendy* I remember dating the old Stan. He was really weird and kind of emo. On the first day of middle school, he came into my girls athletics class. I thought he looked weird and ugly, and even cringier than me, which is very difficult to do. I saw him again at the end of the day. He was in my language arts class, and he got sat at a table with people I really wanted to be friends with. I get like these "friend crushes" or basically I hyperfixate on people I find cool and never actually talk to them. But yeah, I was kind of jealous. I ended up staring at that friend group for most of class. By the time the next class period rolled around, I sat with them. It was really awkward, and even my austistic ass knew there was some tension there. I didn't want to leave though.

Eventually our seating charts got switched. I made a few jokes to my teacher about moving me on the chart, and soon she did. We were working on essays. The room was dark, and of course, I, a major snoop, creep over to look at Stan's desk. I glance, seeing the awful essay he decided to write. For some reason, he wrote it on DID, a mental disorder he apparently knew a lot about. I wanted to get to know him, and I of course knew the basics of the topic, so I move and try to mention something about the topic. I mumble something along the lines of "Hey, uh, that's a cool topic. I know a lot about DID too. Do you know someone that has it?" He didn't reply. I asked him again, slightly louder, and he says that he heard me the first time. He looked really strange that day. At the time, I had bright colorful hair and god awful makeup, so I thought he looked cool. He did not. We end up talking about something weird and emo, like seventh grade me would, and he starts to smile. I guess he thought I was cool? I looked really ugly. (a/n- I actually have a photo of me from seventh grade. I had a TBHK shirt on, and a haircut that made me look like Lord Farquad. I know, so coquette.) I wore these rainbow suspenders all the time, and a big black jacket to make me seem cooler. The jacket was the only thing remotely cool about me.

Over the year, I start liking him more and more, but only ever platonically. At some point, I was going to get his number, and I was making up conversations in my head. "Hey, uh, I've been trying to work myself up to asking you for your number. I would've sooner, but talking to you is what keeps me going day to day." Real cheesy, I know. That November, we decided to join Table Top Gaming Club together. This will be important later on. Me and Bebe had kind of grown apart, especially because we only had one lunch together, and also because we had actually no classes together. It sucked absolute ass. We only talked occasionally. It made me jealous? I was sad and annoyed and fucking angry she had more friends than just me. I felt like a pick me for wanting her to pick me. I wanted her to love me like a rougher, but also as a lover(?). I wanted her to be the one I would turn to, my own personal shoulder to cry on. I wanted to be her everything, but I wasn't. I don't think I ever was. I don't think I ever will be.