…school, that is. It’s like, I’m suddenly forced to become the person I was two months ago. That is not who I am right now, today, and who I will be on September second. I’ve spent three years with these people in such a way that I can count the people who know three things about me on one hand. I can see it now…she’s smart, she’s asian, and she’s unpopular. Okay…maybe four things about me. Funny thing is, I don’t even get the marks that people expect of me. It’s like being mediocre smart. I’m NOT special, not that i would want to be anyways. Too much unwanted attention. Nobody really knows me. You might think you know me, but do you really? Did you know that I love make-up, and fashion, and throwing m&m’s at strangers? Did you know that I can make tiramisu and throw cards fast enough to leave marks on the walls? Did you know that I love scream and that I dance when no one’s looking? Well, of course not, you’d never be around to see it. And did you know that no matter what you ever thought about me, I never, ever hated you? That it wasn’t my choice, but my only option to bitch at you? That, no matter what I choose, I always end up losing?

No, you could never know any of this. You could never know that I wish the authors of great books could be my best-friend. You could never know that I leave my blinds open so that I can stare at the moon when I can’t sleep. And of course, you could never know that deep down, I know that you don’t like me at all.

This year, it’s not at all about meeting new people or making new friends. It’s about holding on for dear life to the friendships that you do have so you don’t leave high-school with an official-looking piece of paper and a broken spirit. Here’s the thing; the only reason I didn’t bother making new friends is because I never even knew how to maintain my friendships in the first place. I never really believed that anybody I hadn’t known before high school could possibly want to talk to me, let alone be my friend, or even remain my friend for longer than a few months. It seemed too good to be true. The only thing that was real was that i was so wrong. But it’s too late. I can’t change. I still don’t believe in people, and I still keep everyone out of my life. So here’s to anyone who thinks I hate them. I don’t. With every person I’ve ever met, I try really hard to ignore myself when i think “I don’t think they like me…”, but I can’t. It’s the only thing I hear. The only phrase that matters at those moments. When you don’t believe that anybody likes you, it’s a little bit easier to be mean. When you believe that the only people who like you, only use you, it’s a lot easier to seem uncaring. But when you’re alone, and you remember that there is now no one you can talk to except yourself, it is the easiest thing in the world to crawl up in a ball, cover yourself with a blanket, and cry.