I’m in middle school, and the boys never like me. Seriously. People say I don't know that, but nobody can ever tell me of anybody who has liked me. They just say that to make me feel better. It makes me feel worse. I am too tall, and I weigh a lot. I realize daily that I am not dainty. I’m not skinny. I’m not beautiful. I have the blond hair and blue eyes that people seem to like, but otherwise, I am out of luck. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I get made fun of when I’m dressing down for PE because my legs aren’t shaved. Then I learn how to shave and am mortified if I miss any hairs. I can’t miss them or I’ll be teased. I regret wearing shorts when I find a spot of hair on my knee. I’m hopeless, and I just can’t do it right. My best friend is the girl that every guy likes. She is small and cute, and she has shoes with buttons on them. She always looks good and says the right things. I have liked the same guy forever. He confides in me and tells me about his problems with his on-again, off-again girlfriend, but he never sees me as anything but a friend who listens to him. He gives me hugs sometimes, and he has no clue how lonely they make me feel. That is what I feel; I feel alone. I feel like I need to remove myself from my group of friends because I don’t belong. I just want to be happy, but I can’t be.
I’m in ninth grade, and I’m still alone. I wake up and daily dread peering at myself in the mirror. Sometimes my face is so offensive to look at that I drape my hair down to cover it. I just don’t look good. My clothes are all wrong. My family never goes out of town, and I don’t have anywhere but Fred Meyer to buy clothes meant for a teenage girl. My pants don’t fit right. They are high waters. They are old lady pants that are meant to have the waist worn above the belly button. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I like a different guy, and he seems to like me. He talks to me a lot and spends time with just me, and he says he likes me. He swing dances with me on the beach. He teaches me about the physics involved in a bubble showing a rainbow of colors. He also likes my best friend, though. Then he out of the blue stops talking to me. I can’t get out of bed. I can’t stop the tears from spilling down my cheeks. I want to stay in my room with the lights down with my music loud enough to drown out my pain. I write poetry to spill out my heart before it explodes. My days are dark, and I just want to be happy, but I can’t be.
I’m a sophomore, and a junior, and a senior. I am running, and I am healthier. I have more confidence. People seem to like to talk to me. A couple of boys like to talk to me. Not a lot, but a couple. I learn to drive and take an annual trip 45 minutes north to buy pants that fit. I smile more.
I’m in college, and I’m in my twenties. People laugh when I say that I used to be incredibly awkward because they believe I’m exaggerating.
2 comments:
Karen! Great post. You are gifted in your reflections and even more so you are brave. To put yourself out to be seen is a terribly risky proposition. I hope my comments on Tues were not out of place. I connect best when you use chronology as an outline and fill it in as if you were standing in the moment again. Though I am not a woman, in Junior High experience the loneliness you described. I would be surprised if it was not a common experience, however, we suffer it in isolation, and some, like yourself in more extremes than others! Keep writing, it is a gift.
John! Your comment showed up on my end this time! Hooray!
Your comments on Tuesday were fine. I sincerely appreciate that you are honest but also kind. I wouldn't want it any other way.
I kept a daily journal between 13 and 18, and I guess I also have been trained to be a... linear thinker? Perhaps these affect my wanting to organize purely chronologically. After your comments, I tried to let that go a bit when I wrote this particular post. It is pretty fun to try different types of writing. :)
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