“Some people are meant to fall in love with each other, but not meant to be together.” -Scott Neustadter
I've always wanted to be that bad ass chick who you see walking down the hallways of an overstuffed high school rocking a leather jacket and combat boots. But then I remind myself that just last night I was crying over the latest episode of Supernatural.
Bad ass chicks don't cry over television shows. They cry because the liquor store just ran out of their favorite vodka. It's whatever really.
I'm only saying this because I saw my best friends' recent girlfriend the other day and let me just say that she didn't get those facial piercings for the hell of it. Well...maybe she did. But I just never would have thought that my best friend, Jackson, the boy who has been my partner in crime since diapers, would go for someone like her. He was the one who gave me a three hour parental speech about how bad smoking is for you when I told him I had gotten my hands on my sisters cigarette and tried it. I thought I was the coolest shit back then. ( And honestly the only thing I remember is coughing a lot and the feeling of burning fire in my chest.) We were 13 years old.
And now he's dating someone who practically wears the scent of tobacco as if it was Chanel No. 3 perfume.
I'm also thinking: What does she have that I don't? Tamable hair? Accentuated curves? Social skills? Everything that I practically lack?? And not to mention that she's hooked up with about every guy around school, so what is she doing with Jackson? And I have to ask it like that because honestly Jackson is like me but in guy form. He's the type of guy to apologize for something that wasn't even his fault in the first place. He's the type of guy who would take a girls virginity but feel bad about it and try to give it back. One time when we were about 8 years old he stepped on a spider and cried about it for two hours straight because he felt so bad. So again, what is she doing with Jackson?
Whatever her intentions are I know they're bad. I can feel it in my guts, as a lame of an excuse that is, it's true. I'm really protective over him but that's only because I love him.
I love him.
I love him.
I'm in love with him.
And it hurts so fucking bad because I can't tell him how I feel. I know I have the power to but I don't want to make things awkward between us and I know for a fact that he doesn't feel the same way.
It's one of those deals.
I know he loves me but it's like You're The Sister I Never Wanted kind of love. It's pathetic really.
But then again who would fall in love with someone like me? Someone who's too flat chested and lanky to be considered a junior in high school. Someone who has hair so frizzy that it even frustrates the ladies at the salon. Someone who can't even make small talk to deplete any awkward tension in the room. Someone with the name like December. I mean honestly, I don't know whether my mom was high or drunk when she named me but she's been arguing my whole life that it was pretty and unique.
Two things that I'm definitely not.