I've only just started it and I don't quite know where it's going, but what do you think?
When I was thirteen I had my first crush on a boy named Byron Newton. He was a jerk. Not at first. At first he was a nice boy, and everyone knew he liked me, too. But then one day he just changed. Seriously, overnight it was like he became possessed by the devil. Poor little innocent me never even saw it coming. One day we were BFFs and the next he had some strange, unwarranted vendetta against me. You'd think I killed his dog or stole all his rare Pokemon cards.
Out of nowhere he was telling people mean, untrue things about me. How I stalked him and how I was fake and I how I had huge feet. Okay, so maybe I did have big feet compared to my size at the time...but I grew into them eventually. Size 8 is perfectly average for a woman of my height and size. But I never stalked him, and I wasn't fake. That little piece of crap just couldn't handle the fact that we had so much in common and he wasn't as original and unique as he thought he was.
He did the whole friend roulette game too. You know, picking a friend at random once a week or so to turn against me. And then they'd hate me together. For no reason other than Byron told them to. I swear, after a few months of this, it was like Voldemort and his fricking Death Eaters were after me.
Eventually we matured a little and got over it. I moved to a different state a year after the birth of the Byron Demon and upon my visit back to my old town three years later, we were able to put it behind us and pretend like nothing ever happened, but I was still scarred for life and it took me all of those four years to really forgive him.
The point of that story was that I blame Byron for what I've become. That might seem a little childish, and I'm aware that it's very likely that none of it is his fault at all, but from my standpoint, it makes sense.
Life was just grand before the Byron incident. I had plenty of friends, no enemies. Everyone liked me because I was kind, sweet and innocent. I saw the best in people and I just tried to make everyone happy. Then Byron came along and ruined me. He was horrible to me for absolutely no reason and I simply could not understand how anyone could be so cruel without just cause. By the time he decided to stop tormenting me, I wasn't the Abigail I was before.
You could probably say I changed because, well, I was a teenager wasn't I? That's what teenagers do: go through puberty, learn hard lessons, discover who they are. Change.
Yeah, well...I still blame Byron. If nothing else, he was the first of many metaphorical bitch slaps I received throughout my informative years.
But like I said, I forgave him a long time ago. Sure, it's all his fault, but I don't hold a grudge. I don't care. That's another thing I blame him for; my apathy. Because of him, I simply do not give a flying monkey in Peru about a damned thing. Nothing anyone says or does can really anger or upset me. The entire human race is nothing but a bunch of pathetic, selfish assholes with no shame. I accept this. And so I'm not shocked or offended whenever someone proves it to me.
Don't get all judgmental and sympathetic for me, now. I'm not a pessimistic lonely soul who's angry at the world. Don't pretend that's not what you were thinking, because it is. I know.
I'm a realist. That's all. I don't think the world is full of trash and we're all doomed to Hell just because a few unfortunate things have happened to me. I know the world is full of trash and most likely, nine out of ten of us (myself included) are probably going to Hell. Because I'm observant and I see the world around me. Don't try to pretend it's something different. We're screwed. Admit it.
That doesn't mean there isn't good in everyone. It doesn't mean we can't be saved somehow. It doesn't mean anything other than humans suck because we choose to for the time being. It's the hip thing to do these days. A trend. That's all.
Maybe we'll remember we have souls and what it means to love again some time soon. Who knows? It's possible.
See. I'm not a pessimist. Pessimists wouldn't have hope for anything. I've got hope. I'm chalk-fricking-full of hope.
When I was thirteen I had my first crush on a boy named Byron Newton. He was a jerk. Not at first. At first he was a nice boy, and everyone knew he liked me, too. But then one day he just changed. Seriously, overnight it was like he became possessed by the devil. Poor little innocent me never even saw it coming. One day we were BFFs and the next he had some strange, unwarranted vendetta against me. You'd think I killed his dog or stole all his rare Pokemon cards.
Out of nowhere he was telling people mean, untrue things about me. How I stalked him and how I was fake and I how I had huge feet. Okay, so maybe I did have big feet compared to my size at the time...but I grew into them eventually. Size 8 is perfectly average for a woman of my height and size. But I never stalked him, and I wasn't fake. That little piece of crap just couldn't handle the fact that we had so much in common and he wasn't as original and unique as he thought he was.
He did the whole friend roulette game too. You know, picking a friend at random once a week or so to turn against me. And then they'd hate me together. For no reason other than Byron told them to. I swear, after a few months of this, it was like Voldemort and his fricking Death Eaters were after me.
Eventually we matured a little and got over it. I moved to a different state a year after the birth of the Byron Demon and upon my visit back to my old town three years later, we were able to put it behind us and pretend like nothing ever happened, but I was still scarred for life and it took me all of those four years to really forgive him.
The point of that story was that I blame Byron for what I've become. That might seem a little childish, and I'm aware that it's very likely that none of it is his fault at all, but from my standpoint, it makes sense.
Life was just grand before the Byron incident. I had plenty of friends, no enemies. Everyone liked me because I was kind, sweet and innocent. I saw the best in people and I just tried to make everyone happy. Then Byron came along and ruined me. He was horrible to me for absolutely no reason and I simply could not understand how anyone could be so cruel without just cause. By the time he decided to stop tormenting me, I wasn't the Abigail I was before.
You could probably say I changed because, well, I was a teenager wasn't I? That's what teenagers do: go through puberty, learn hard lessons, discover who they are. Change.
Yeah, well...I still blame Byron. If nothing else, he was the first of many metaphorical bitch slaps I received throughout my informative years.
But like I said, I forgave him a long time ago. Sure, it's all his fault, but I don't hold a grudge. I don't care. That's another thing I blame him for; my apathy. Because of him, I simply do not give a flying monkey in Peru about a damned thing. Nothing anyone says or does can really anger or upset me. The entire human race is nothing but a bunch of pathetic, selfish assholes with no shame. I accept this. And so I'm not shocked or offended whenever someone proves it to me.
Don't get all judgmental and sympathetic for me, now. I'm not a pessimistic lonely soul who's angry at the world. Don't pretend that's not what you were thinking, because it is. I know.
I'm a realist. That's all. I don't think the world is full of trash and we're all doomed to Hell just because a few unfortunate things have happened to me. I know the world is full of trash and most likely, nine out of ten of us (myself included) are probably going to Hell. Because I'm observant and I see the world around me. Don't try to pretend it's something different. We're screwed. Admit it.
That doesn't mean there isn't good in everyone. It doesn't mean we can't be saved somehow. It doesn't mean anything other than humans suck because we choose to for the time being. It's the hip thing to do these days. A trend. That's all.
Maybe we'll remember we have souls and what it means to love again some time soon. Who knows? It's possible.
See. I'm not a pessimist. Pessimists wouldn't have hope for anything. I've got hope. I'm chalk-fricking-full of hope.