73% of you reading this will be able to relate to it.
How many of you have ever wished to be prettier? To be skinnier? To be more popular? Don't lie. I don't care. I won't know. Yeah, that's what I thought. Who made you feel that way? Was it the pretty, skinny, popular girl? Probably. You compared yourself to her. You told yourself that you should look like that. And chances are, you probably tried to make yourself more like her. Maybe you dieted, wore more makeup, or really tried to put yourself out there. Nobody noticed. And it hurts. I know, I've been there. Well, sort of. Wanna hear my story?
I was insanely skinny. 11years old and weighing in at only 65 pounds. That's twenty pounds under what the other girls were. You're probably thinking, "So? How is that a problem? She should be grateful!" Don't get me wrong, I never hated being skinny. I didn't really care how I looked, honestly. It didn't matter to me. I woke up, dragged a brush through my long, dirty-blonde hair, throw on whatever my mom laid out for me, and jogged down to the bus stop. I guess you could say I was a happy person. And I was! Until I got to school.
Everything changes in middle school. That shirt you used to love? It's no longer cool. No, scratch that. If you dare to wear that shirt, you'll be the talk of the school for days. You HAVE to wear a bra, even if you have nothing to put in it. Oh, and your naturally wavy hair HAS to be straightened. What, do you live under a rock or something? I hated it. I was a tomboy, I spent my summers out in the woods with the neighborhood kids, not tanning at the beach. My favorite pair of shoes were a dirty pair of converse, not heels. Skirts? Forget it! I never really gave a two cents about what anyone else thought. Their opinion of me was their opinion of me; why should I care? It didn't really matter to me, until that opinion was made clear.
Let's backtrack a little bit.
I'm not going to use real names here, so let's say my best friends name was Toby. He wasn't just my best friend, he was like my brother. We spent hours in outside, bouncing on my trampoline, going hiking, things like that. We loved being outdoors. It was like a second home to us. I have a swamp around the back of my house, a huge one. We used to go out there and sit for hours. Once, I even pushed him in! He got so mad, but only for a couple of seconds, because by then he had already dragged me in with him. The summer before fourth grade was one of the best summers I've ever had.
One morning, I woke up and Toby was sitting on my doorstep. I got dressed and rushed outside to see what we were going to do that day. He surprised me with a drawing. "I had this dream last night, of having this little fort in your backyard, like our own little house. It was so cool!" I looked at him and he stared back. I knew what we had to do. We spent a total of 3 days building that fort. And when we were done, it was a sight to see! I'll try find a photograph and attach it. It was really amazing; and we were so proud of ourselves. We practically LIVED in that thing. We even convinced our parents to let ourselves sleep out there one night! It was like our own little home. There wasn't a day we didn't go in it. We'd come home from school in the warm months and take our homework out there. It was paradise. I hoped it would never end. But I learned the hard way that all things have to.
Now let's skip to 6th grade.
I still remember that day. It was a cold December afternoon. I had just come home from school. Middle school was great, everyone was so nice! I sat down and started doing my homework like I usually did. That's when I heard it. Toby and I had set up walkie talkies down at the fort and kept that one on so that if something like a bear tried to take down the fort, we could hear it and scare it away. All I ever heard through that thing was dead silence. But not now. Now I heard yelling. Amd sobbing. And twigs snapping. I dropped my homework and ran. I got down there in time to see Toby yelling and sobbing and tearing our paradise apart. He was out of control. I'd never seen him like that before. I ran over to him and pulled him away, still screaming and thrashing at me to let go, to let him finish what he started. I practically threw him down on the ground and stradeled him, and screamed at him to shut the hell up and talk to me. He stopped yelling and just sobbed. He must have cried for ten minutes. It was heartbreaking. Once he stopped I made him promise not to touch our fort, and helped him up. He wiped the tears off his face. "...What happened?" I asked. I didn't know what kind of an answer to expect, but I deffinately didn't expect what I got.
"It's best friend day in my class. My teacher asked me to tell the class who my best friend is, and I told them it was you. They laughed. They told me a boy can't be friends with a girl. They told me I'm gay. I don't even know what that means! I thought it meant happy! But apparently not! I can't be friends with you. Just go home." He started crying again. I was absoloutely speechless. I told him to forget about it, and I walked away. I had no idea what to say. How could he say that? I could feel tears brimming in my eyes. I started running. I stormed through my back door, sprinted to my room, threw myself down on my bed and I cried. For hours. And hours. And hours.
Week one. down one friend, 7 months to go. Life: 1. Holly: 0
