Thank God It's Friday

It’s Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday. Everybody’s lookin’ forward to the weekend.

That reference was completely unnecessary, especially since I’m not in the mood to be quoting any upbeat song, let alone Rebecca Black. But, it is Friday.

Sometimes, I swear January’s life is like a soap opera. She’s like, a walking, talking disaster zone. I mean, who falls for a homeless drug addict kid and ends up being stalked by him? Who has two boyfriends at once? Who has already had two guys ask to marry them at sixteen? Who is made fun of every single day of their life? Who constantly worries about being pregnant? Who actually wants to be pregnant? Who has sex with a guy after only a few days of dating? Who does that?? Well, the answer is January. I love her to death, but why does she come to me for advice? I’ve never been in one relationship, let alone two at the same time. And so, I always end up doing the best I can, telling her what I think is the right answer, but then the very next day, something dramatic and horrible happens, and I’m proven wrong. And, not to mention, she never listens to me, anyway. I hate to say anything bad about January (doesn’t everybody do that?), but I needed to rant somewhere, and this seems like the safest place. January’s life is becoming too much to handle in my calm, quiet, little-girl life that I live.

And then, there are my problems. Compared to January’s, they seem almost unimportant, easy to deal with.

Trust me, they’re not.

It’s almost like nothing happened. It’s almost like I never said anything. It’s like we’re both avoiding the horrible, humiliating outburst I made on Wednesday morning.

It’s driving me insane.

What should I do? I need to ask him out properly, don’t I? How? When? Where? WHY? Shouldn’t "I really like you" be enough? Shouldn’t I already know what he thinks? Shouldn’t he get it? But, I don’t know if he does. I can feel it in the air when he’s around me. I remember catching him looking at me in guitar club on Wednesday, the way our eyes met, and he looked back down at his guitar, the music he makes up as he goes along in that amazing way of his. He hasn't looked into my eyes like that since I told him. I just want to look into those pretty, sometimes brown, sometimes green eyes like my own and know how he feels.  He’s not saying anything, but he has a reason. He isn’t avoiding me, but he’s avoiding the whole situation, acting like
It
never
happened.

But, it did. I remember it so vividly. Why wouldn’t I remember something like that? It was one of the most
F
 R
I
 G
H
 T
E
 N
I
 N
G
moments of my life. Oh, and I made a complete ass out of myself. Now what? What do I say? Do I have to say anything? I really don’t want to to. But, I think I might have to. What will I say? This is killing me.

Why can’t everything just go right? Why can’t I be the kind of girl who holds hands with her boyfriend, and when she walks by people with him, and they think about how adorable it is? Why can’t I be the happy, crazy-in-love girl that has the life that the awkward, unattractive girl watches from a distance and is dying to live?

Why does it have to be the other way around?

I wish I were beautiful. I wish I were worth his time. They say that God created everything to be beautiful. I am the Coffee Break. When God was making everything beautiful, he decided to go on a coffee break when I came along. By the time he finished his mocha cappuccino or WHATEVER HE DECIDED TO DRINK ON THAT DAY, the damage was already done. I had been created to be unloved and unhappy, thought beautiful by no one. I have never been called beautiful by anyone, except for random old people. (Blame their most likely failing eyesight.) And of course, there’s my family. But, don’t they have to? Isn’t it expected of them, in a way?

I hate being so pathetic. I hate having so much hope, when deep down, I know that I won’t be happy, no matter how many limbs I go out on, how many chances I take. Maybe I don’t deserve to be happy. But, why? Am I really that shallow that I need to be loved to be happy? I guess I am, aren’t I? How do you change yourself to be a person who deserves happiness?

Wouldn’t everything just be betterif
he
were
mine?

I just want to curl up in a little ball and cry my eyes out right now. Why can’t I make it right? Why did I make it wrong in the first place?

In Child Care, I leave. I say I’m going to my locker and go everywhere but there. I walk by the class Jordan is in and glance at him from outside the closed door. He intently stares at his laptop. Would he look up if he knew I was there? Or would he become even more intent on whatever was on that computer screen, hiding from my weird, stalker-like staring? I go to one of the bathrooms, lock myself in the big stall with a sink in it. I sit on the toilet and think and think and think until I don’t remember what class I’m supposed to be in, and how long I was gone. Is it possible to cry without tears, to only cry inside? If it is, I’ve been doing it all day. I’m doing right now, listening to people laugh like maniacs, enjoying their day. No one knows of my crying inside, no one asks what is wrong. If they did, would I actually tell them? Would they care? I cry and cry and cry no tears, just a pain in my heart and my favorite song in my ears.

Am I as pathetic as I feel? I think of the long, lazy weekend ahead of me. A weekend of being alone, working on my novel, blogging, reading, and playing my guitar. Thank God it’s Friday.