The Players

Foreword:

This is just a short story that I wrote to express my feelings. It wasn't really written for the general public's entertainment, but more so that I could kind of let go, clear my mind, and start thinking clearly again without being clouded by anger. Yeah, with anger comes cursing so there's some language in this story. If you still decide to read it, go ahead! I'm not sure if it's really an enjoyable story, but I guess I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Every day your "best friend" wants you to "play tennis with" her. You go to the court every day with her. It's routine. You love tennis, so hey it's not such a boring routine, but the fact of the matter is, you're not playing tennis, and this girl isn't even your best friend. She's like your bratty, bossy, selfish six-year-old daughter who can't see more than what's on the surface, not out of stupidity, but out of simple ignorance. Although you're too young to have a six-year-old daughter, she has made herself that way and has expected you to take care of her as such. She doesn't have her own car, and since she's your roommate and your best friend, you drive her to many places she needs to go. "Thanks, sister!" She's told you that she's going to get her own car some day, but she keeps blowing money on Michael Kors watches and Chanel purses and expensive, designer clothes, and you constantly, but nicely ask her about getting her own car, but she's just like, "I'm working on it." She wants it all. She wants to be materialistically rich and doesn't even care about what happens in her life until she's rich. "Life doesn't even start until I'm rich. None of this matters, really. Everything else, all of this college and everything that's happened in my past school years is leading up to me being rich." What a way to boost your self-confidence. You wonder if she actually appreciates everything you've done for her, or if she even cares about you at all.
So you go out to the tennis court every day and see her prance about in one of those little pink skirts while you're wearing a pair of Capri shorts that are down to your knees. "I wish we could share clothes," she tells you all the time. You always just shyly say "Yeah," because she's clearly pointing out the fact that she's two-thirds your size and wants you to lose weight. "Wouldn't it be so cool if we could go running in the park every morning? We could exercise and then do races together!" Yeah that would be great except for the fact that I'm about two times slower than you because I'm about 50 pounds heavier than you.
Those comments don't really affect you because you're feminist enough to know that you don't have to be like the popular girls for people (especially men) to like you. You're overweight? So what. Luck of the draw. You were born overweight. You keep yourself running at that slow pace because you run for health, not to conform to some idea of beauty or to please your six-year-old daughter. "Please let me pick out your clothes today!!" your best friend Eloise tells you,"Trust me; I know how to make you look cute!" Okay, whatever. You're a pretty laid back woman so you don't really mind. You let her curl your hair while she tells you to do your makeup, and you wonder why she even wants to do your hair and pick out your clothes and have you put on makeup. To you, it's art. Playing with hair is sculpting, putting on makeup is painting, and making and outfit is already an art in itself: fashion design. You know from your many years of experience with young women that some do it because they do not feel beautiful without it, and their non-feminist default mindset tells them that beauty is everything, and without it, men won't want to mate with them, and the animalistic, biological purpose of procreation cannot be fulfilled, and their perspective shows them they're not pretty enough with makeup.
Your makeup really is art, though. Your eyeshadow is blue and grey and you're reminded of Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night. Some yellow eyeliner and mascara would make the look. Imagine it as a Halloween costume with a Starry Night dress you saw on a doll one time. Amazing. But Eloise wants to be Nirvana cheerleaders because that's the only thing you have in common. That one song "Smells Like Teen Spirit" with the cheerleaders in the music video. "I'm a Nirvana fan," she tells people, but she only likes that one song and she tells people that to try to be hipster and you see her Instagram page and how she always posts stupid "tumblr" hipster pictures, and she uses you as a decoration because it's cool to have a "bestie" and she dresses you up because she wants you to play the part and doesn't give a shit about you as a person. She's even told you, "I feel like I only have an attachment to what people do for me or what they say and not actually them." Well gee isn't that a surprise. So she doesn't care about you. She only cares that you're talking to her the way she wants you to, and she only cares about the fact that you're killing yourself trying to please her. (because you just want friendship)
She certainly has acted like that with the four boyfriends she has had in the past four months. "Bæ is texting me." Seriously?! BÆ?!?! What the actual fuck? Adult, mature relationships don't use stupid slang terms that make their relationship seem trivial. "Bae" doesn't actually mean "the person I love," it means "the person who plays the part for me and gives me his hoodie and pays for me and cuddles with me and buys me fucking Starbucks," not the one I actually love. It's all so fake. She doesn't care about them. She's fake. She claims to be so happy and positive. (when you've told her time and time again that her negative, "I should be rich, I should have more, you should be more to me" attitude has an effect on you. But it doesn't matter because if her negative attitude is affecting you and not her, I guess it doesn't exist) She lies to make it all seem okay so you can continue to be her bestie. She tells you all the time, "What would I do without you, Sage? You're the best friend I've ever had." One day you'll tell her, "I'll tell you'll do. You'll go try to find someone like me who wants so much to be your friend, and if you find one, you'll tell her the same thing you're telling me, and then you'll suck her dry and make her self-esteem plummet and send her into this turmoil of insecurity and anger just like you've done to me, you asshole. And you'll use her to get what you want and you'll continue to act as if that is all okay because you just don't care. It is okay in your book because we all owe you, isn't that right? Everyone owes Eloise because Eloise is the victim and feels like the world has slapped her in the face in everything and she wants to stop being oppressed. (although she is not really oppressed. She just takes everything in the wrong way) But you know what, Eloise? You will NEVER EVER find anyone like me who will put up with your bullshit for this long and offer friendship counseling and continue to bring her best every day to someone who doesn't even care a little bit. You'll search and you'll search for someone to fill the void for you but you won't find anyone else who'll be willing to do that. Good luck with your fucking life and your fucking search because I sure as hell don't want to be a part of it anymore."
She contorts you to play her part and when you're playing it, you're her best friend, but when you're not playing it, she asks you what's wrong. There are some days when you feel like garbage. You come to school every day and you act respectful and you laugh at every boring, over-killing joke she tells because she wants that connection to a bestie. Now you've had people say they can see trouble in your eyes. People have said even when you're smiling, there's just a look you have in your eyes that just says something is wrong. How do people notice that and not your bestie? But she really actually just doesn't care. As long as you're giving her the satisfaction she wants, she doesn't pay attention to how you're feeling, but the second you don't force a laugh or a smile or force yourself to do something that pleases her, it's "what's wrong?" right in front of everyone. If she thought something was actually wrong and was concerned, wouldn't she bring you off to the side, knowing you don't want to talk about personal issues and get emotional in front of the whole world?She doesn't care about what's wrong. She just wants you to "shape up." You're not her friend. No you're just the best actress who got the main role. She's the director and will say, "Awww, why don't you do it like this? That would be so awesome!" If you like the way you're doing things and she doesn't, oh well, she's the director. When you fight back, she just manipulates you. "But you're my sister, and sisters do that for each other! One day I'll be your actress for a day. I'll get my own car and my own house and you can sleep over all the time, I promise! Just do this one thing for me, girl!!" She'll act like she has good intentions, and she might, but deep down she's really selfish and she's killing you, but you feel trapped because you're all about accepting people and things for how they are, but she is kind of bullying and manipulating you. She'll hit your soft spot sometimes and pull the guilt trick. "Why don't you want to go to the football game with me, Sage? You don't like me?" All that sweet talking is pulling the guilt trick because she's acting like she's so sweet and innocent and you feel like you're being the cynical old lady who is bitter and mean to children. You can smell the disgusting bullshit that comes out of her mouth. "Hahaha, what did you say Eloise? What you said kind of made it sound like you actually want to spend time with me. You don't care. All you want is that cool tumblr friendship. You just want someone to go to the game with you because going alone is uncool. You know I'm a homebody and I don't want to go just because so many people will be there and there'll be so much activity. We'll go and you'll just take selfies to show off your "tumblr best friend" on Instagram, and you want to look pretty together. "Wear makeup there." "Wow Sage you look so pretty in makeup you should wear it every day. Imagine being photogenic all the time!" One day you'll tell her, "Find another actress to play the part. I'm done with being disrespected; I'm done with having pieces of me chipped away. I'm done with asking you to go to counseling to help solve your issues. Yes you need it because you're hurting me. But counseling would ruin your spotless record and you obviously care about that more than you care about me."
You're just the girl who plays tennis with her every day. You go and she wants you to serve the ball to her and she won't even try to hit it back to you because as long as she's got the pleasure of hitting it, well why does anything else matter? "Hit it back, Sage!!! Hit it back!" But she only wants you to hit it back so she can have the gratification of feeling professional. She doesn't care if you actually get to enjoy the game yourself. You've played on the same team with her and she'll just jump in front of you to hit the ball. You've had so many talks with her about being selfish in the many ways she is, but no matter what, you can't change her.
So you just live with her. Your roommate because you know, college. That's what college students do. She hates your room anyway just like she hates anything else that doesn't feed into her idea of "this world revolves around me." She's selfish and you just want to hit that ball so hard and have it soar away and stop playing this stupid game with her forever, because tennis is not the only game you're playing with her. You want to hit the ball of relationship right out of her path. That's what she's doing to you, but you keep running for it and serving it back to her. No matter if you hit the ball out of course and she has to go get it and serve it to you, you can't make her go get it because you know it should just come to her. I mean, she's spent all this time being tired trying to be professional and keep the ball in the air, I mean, why should she have to go get it? Why can't you just both be goofy and enjoy yourselves knowing that you'll never be a professional player and just be content with each other and your relationship and okay with the fact that neither of you are good at that particular thing, and not have anything be forced or pressured. It's fine if she wants to be the best and everything, (you've never told her that she's wrong) but things would be a bit better if she atleast treated you like your views were okay, too. You're chill. You make the best of the little things and are very thankful for the big things. "Wow, Sage. You want to be an occupational therapist? Why? That job only makes $75,000 a year. Why would you get a job if it's not going to make you rich? That amount of money is really not enough. Trust me. I know how the world works and I know about money and how much cool things cost. Hopefully you marry a lawyer or something like that, because I don't know if I'll want to be friends with you if I'll have to be like, 'Hey bae, this is Sage and her...shack' lol." "I'm so fucking sorry that I'm not good enough to be your friend. I'm sorry if you pinpointed me because you thought I was weak. I'm also sorry that you see patience, perseverance, and peaceful confrontation as weak. You've never done any of that so you have no idea that it's actually ten times harder to do that then to just be angry and scream at you. You think I'm weak because I stay up at night planning how I'm going to deal with you or what in going to say or how I'm going to keep my cool and explain when you piss me off? I'm not weak. I'm not who you want me to be and I don't care because I don't want to be. If I wanted to be, I would say 'Oh she's not doing anything wrong. I just have to try harder.'" You're not best friends, you don't have a friendship. The relationship is just one, big, dehumanizing, EXTREMELY isolating game of strategy. She's the referee, and you, her boyfriends, and probably everyone she's known in her life have all simply been the players.