I scroll through my News Feed on Facebook, absentmindedly reading posts and glancing at photos. Who knew that you could know so much about people you don’t even know? Thank the internet. Or blame the internet. Either way can work. I come across a photo. The photo is of my best friend, Alexandria, holding the person I hate the most in this whole universe in a buddy-buddy hug. The two girls in the picture look like how best friends should look, all smiles and pretty faces. I bite my lip. I hate her. I hate her so much. Not Alexandria, but her.
Who is she?
I think I’ve mentioned her briefly, but I didn’t even give her a name, mostly because I hate thinking about her, I hate ranting about her, I hate her.
I see her in the halls at school, where she usually greets me with a big, gorgeous smile and gives me some sort of sweet-as-sugar compliment. I smile back and say thank you, and it is assumed that everything is fine.
On the outside, maybe it is. Inside of me, my heart burns out and turns to ice, my thoughts explode with hate, my soul turns green just below my skin, just below the outside where everything is fine.
It all started at the end of my freshman year.
Let’s call her Leslie.
Leslie and my sister, Yuuki, had gotten fairly close that year. Leslie seemed like the perfect friend to have. She had what seems like an endless supply of money to spend on band merchandise and bright, cute clothing, she had a sweet, loving boyfriend, she was beyond gorgeous, pretty and petite with long straight hair and a sweet smile, all slightly crooked teeth and shiny pink lip gloss. She listened to great music, and went to concerts with her boyfriend practically every few months. She showered her friends with compliments and always tried to make them feel better when they were down. Trust me, I know all about that. She would always tell me that I have a hundred reasons to smile, and that I look beautiful when I smile, so I should do it more often.
Well, unlike her, I actually don’t look beautiful when I smile, and I don’t have a hundred reasons to.
But, though it may be hard to believe, no one is perfect, not even Leslie.
From the start, I didn’t like Leslie much. Remember when I said about how I felt when I see her? How I said that my "soul turns green?" Well, you can read into that and say that just the sight of her makes me sick, but I was going for a different meaning. My soul turns green with envy.
From the very beginning, I was jealous of Leslie. I was jealous of her even before I knew her, actually. On the evening before Grey’s graduation ceremony, I was a mess. I was upset, fearing that I would never see him again, trying to think of the right thing to say as goodbye. I was in a rush. All of the other band members were already down at the field, setting up their music stands in front of their folding chairs. On the way down to the field, one of the black flip-flops I had been wearing had fallen apart right on my foot. So much for designer sandals, I remember thinking. The shoes had been a hand-me-down from one of my dad’s friends, most likely around thirty dollars at full price, some big name in shoes, Steve Madden, I think.
Now, I was on my way back down to the field in the extra pair of flats I had brought, hands trying to balance a music stand, my clarinet, and my music. Frustrated, I ran into someone I knew, that I had met only a few weeks earlier at a school dance. Let’s call him Brendon. Brendon was Leslie’s boyfriend. He was a year younger than her, in seventh grade at that time. Leslie had brought him to the spring dance, and we had met there. He had instantly struck me as a complete sweetheart, just the way he had comforted Alexandria when she was practically in tears over some boy standing her up. He had genuinely tried to make her feel better, something I would never suspect a twelve or thirteen year old boy to do for anyone.
So, there we were. We said hello and he asked me if there were any soda machines around the school anywhere. I showed him where to find a water machine, since my school was on this big health-food kick and would never serve soda to anyone other than a faculty member. He said thank you, and before he left, he asked me if I needed any help carrying my things down to the field. Inside, something went off in my brain, almost like a light bulb moment. I said no, but thanks anyway. After the ceremony I spotted him once more, and he greeted me with a small wave and a sweet smile. That same light bulb went off in my mind. This time, I even got butterflies.
For only a month or two, I had a small crush on Leslie’s boyfriend. That is where the jealousy started. As time went on, I stopped thinking about Brendon in a romantic way, but freshman year, that envy of Leslie sparked like a little green fire in my mind once more.
She was, and still is, everything that I will never be. Pretty, but not Malibu Barbie pretty, pretty in a unique way. Thin, but not like a stick, more like an hourglass. Happy, with a perfect sweetheart of a boyfriend, tons of friends, a family who didn’t pay attention to anything she did, and a pile of money to spend on all the things that made her so perfect; makeup, clothes, hair dye, the works.
Everything that I will never be.
So there is the jealousy. But where did the hatred come from?
I was on Facebook one night, and I came across a fan page for my sister’s blog. Extremely curious, I went to see who liked it. They were all people I knew vaguely, Light and his friends. Some obnoxious kid in my grade who was Oliver’s older brother. And then there was Leslie. These people actually read my sister’s blog? I told her, and she was so excited. People actually read her blog!
Then, I saw it. A post from Leslie, written on Light’s wall. Using his name in Yuuki’s blog (mentioned because he was the guy I currently liked at that point), she had said this: "Ohai, *Blog name.* ;D" All of the other people who liked the fan page had commented using quotes from Yuuki’s blog, making fun of her words. I froze. Tears stung my eyes. I heard Yuuki singing in the shower. How would I tell her? Light was involved…? Why? What was going on?
There had been a sleepover; one of Light’s friends had invited Leslie and David. A girl there had been friends with one of Yuuki’s friends, and she knew about Yuuki’s blog. For some reason it was brought up. The webpage was opened and every post had been read aloud. I can just see Leslie sitting there, looking at the computer screen, giggling and saying, "Oh my God, this is so hilarious!" Anger boiled in me. I always knew she was bad news, and now I was sure of it. I opened a new message, slammed on the computer keys, using many choice words, practically screaming at her through my words, and sent it right to her.
Then, I messaged David. How had he let this happen? He said he was half-asleep the whole time, but for some reason I didn’t believe him. Even now, when he doesn’t like her as much as I don’t, he would still rather hang out with Leslie than be with me. I was crying. Yuuki came in and I told her. She went upstairs and outside onto the porch and cried, too. Why was Leslie trying to ruin her life? Why were people she didn’t even know trying to ruin her life?
Leslie had given the web address to Yuuki’s blog to both of the guys she liked, so they would read all of it and it would humiliate Yuuki even more. She told Oliver’s brother to read the posts about him aloud to him. She even taped an obscene letter to the other guy’s front door with Band-Aids, which said things that Yuuki would never say to him, with the web address at the bottom.
Days passed. Three people apologized to Yuuki. One was Light, one was one of Light’s friends, and one was Leslie. Light had said that everything had been Leslie’s idea, and he felt terrible, because he gets made fun of all the time and he didn’t know why he would even consider making fun of someone else. Light’s friend had said that she knew that it was a really stupid thing to do, and Yuuki didn’t have to forgive her, but she still wanted to apologize. Leslie’s apology was sprinkled with anger, and it didn’t even seem sincere. Yet, Yuuki still accepted it anyway. I don’t see why. In school a few days later, they hugged and everything was fine. I refused to even look at her. She would’ve never suspected how much I hated her, how much I still hate her.
She had tried to ruin Yuuki’s life, ruin her relationships, ruin her chances with any of the guys she was interested in.
It hasn’t even been a year since it happened. Why does everyone forget? Sometimes, Yuuki even forgets. But, every time I see Leslie’s pretty little face, I want to tear it right off of her pretty little head. As weeks go by, other terrible, not-so-perfect things are revealed about Leslie. Like how she cheats on her sweet boyfriend all of the time, constantly flirting with other guys and even doing physical things with them behind Brendon’s back. And Brendon has no clue. Brendon came to guitar club on the day I told Jordan I liked him, and just seeing him made me feel this incredible sadness for him, made me want to tell him about the horrible things his perfect little girlfriend has been doing to him. Two years of dating. Two years. He needs to know.
Leslie had tried to ruin my sister’s life. Maybe I could try to ruin hers. But, see, I would never do that. I would never stoop so low.
So, to see my best friend with her completely broke my heart. They looked pretty and happy, like real best friends, friends who can actually relate to each other about normal things like guys and secrets. I can never relate to Alexandria anymore. I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’ve never even kissed a guy before. I don’t have juicy secrets. I can’t talk for hours upon hours about regular girly things, because I have nothing to contribute. I’m practically not even a girl. I’m a mess of a person, who does nothing but write, play computer games, read books, dream about a boy who most likely wants nothing to do with her, and play her guitar so much that her fingertips are hard and calloused.
I’m a terrible friend. I don’t give good advice, because I’m more of a listener than a talker. All I ever want to talk about is how much I hate myself and my life, all of the things that go wrong. But that’s only because nothing ever goes right. Ever.
Take this week for example. I was supposed to sell some of my clothing. With the money, I was supposed to go out and buy new headphones, hair dye because my roots are starting to show, foundation, and pencil eyeliner. I was supposed to pay my English teacher back for the books I had ordered from her. Now she’ll probably think I’m a complete scumbag because I haven’t given her the money for weeks, and I probably still won’t have it. I was supposed to put aside four or five dollars for the winter formal on Saturday night. I’m supposed to ask Jordan to the formal next week, and he’ll probably say no. Why wouldn’t he?
So, out of pity, my nana is taking me out to buy my headphones and hair dye. She’s paying my way into the formal. All because my (not-so) Great Aunt wouldn’t accept my old clothes and buy it for her thrift store, even though she knows my family is practically in poverty. My dad hasn’t had a job in four years. My mom has two jobs, but she only makes enough to pay her bills, buy her and my father’s cigarettes, and put gas in her car. My nana pays some of our bills, and she pays the computer bill. My other grandmother, my mom’s mom, is always lending our family money, so much that my mother feels guilty about it. I had to get a new pair of glasses that don’t even look nice on me, just because my mother couldn’t afford nicer ones or contacts. The government pays for our groceries. I get lunch for free at school. For my fifteenth birthday, I don’t remember my parents getting me much of anything. But, I don’t blame them. I forgive them, I understand.
My parents are both very depressed. Today, in the car, they were arguing over who would get to commit suicide first. I know that they won’t actually do it, but I know that deep down, they both want to sometimes. Why wouldn’t they? Everywhere they turn, every time they see a light leading the way to a way out, they just run into yet another brick wall. But, I don’t know what I do without them. They may not have a lot to give, but they are the best parents a girl could ask for.
Do you see what I mean? Do you see why it would be so hard for my friends to relate to me, with their cozy little lives, pockets full of cash, their pretty faces, their list of past boyfriends and their current ones?
I’m just a nobody. I’m never happy. I don’t have any money. I’m fifteen and I’ve never had a cell phone, yet I stopped caring about that two years ago. I’m borrowing David’s old iPod because mine broke a while back. I go shopping for new clothes three times a year, at the most. I eat when I’m unhappy, which explains being God-knows-how-many pounds overweight, which makes me even more upset. I’m not pretty, just a girl with short, uncooperative hair and an unremarkable face, who never gets a second glance. I’m the girl who goes to glow parties and school dances with her friends and awkwardly dances alone while her friends dance with guys and actually have a good time. I’m the girl who awkwardly stands there while the attractive guy flirts with her friends. Maybe that’s just what I am. Awkward. Alone. Single for almost sixteen years. Pitied by her friends, who constantly try to make her feel better about herself, even though they know they are lying.
I go to church every Sunday, but sometime I wonder why God didn’t give me a perfect life, like the life that Leslie lives. I wonder why God didn’t make me beautiful. Leslie, and probably most of the other people with perfect lives in the world, are atheists. What did I, a Christian, ever do to make God so mad at me?
I just want to be happy. I want to be good enough for Jordan. I want to be good enough for my best friend. I want to look in the mirror every morning and actually like what I see.
I wish confidence, self-esteem, and happiness were all things that I could just take some sort of pill for, and feel them immediately with the occasional symptom of a problem, only to be solved by taking another pill for optimism. But, all of those things are not the kind of thing I can pick up at CVS for a few dollars. I probably wouldn’t even be able to afford them anyway, with my luck. Those things are all things that I have no idea how to find, and I probably never will. But, where did they go in the first place?
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