Stephanie Victoria

Full Disclosure

Monday, April 5, 2010, 10:18 PM

It's dangerous even to preface this spectacular bout of word vomit. Here goes:

I'm sick of feeling like the best friend in my own life. I don't feel like I get anything, not the boy, the travel, the camera, the grades, the anything. I don't get anything but to watch as every single fucking person around gets showered every single fucking day with anything and everything they want. The worst part is that I don't know what to do about it. I'm not good enough at writing to get published (nor would I have the time or drive to be successful even if I were all that great), I'm not a good enough photographer to sell my work, I can't get a job, I can't lose weight, I can't make myself feel good in an outfit any more. Because no matter what, I'll still get shown up by infinitely prettier, thinner, shallower girls who are bubbly and fun to be with. I get that that's what people want. They want fun and exciting. But I can't get anyone to cut me any slack in any part of my life. School's taking over, so I keep on forgetting to do little things that are just as important. And other things I'm just too tired to do. I work my ass off in a theatre program where I can't get a fucking role to save my life, no matter how much talent I have, because I'm too tall, too big, too brown. That seems to be the real problem here. I'm too amazonian not to be intimidating. No one can picture me as anything but the smart girl, and even then, not so much, because now I'm stuck in a room full of smart people every day and I'm not really comparing all that well. I hate math and science, and I'm getting shown up desperately in the subjects I do actually like. And to top it all off, I want all these material things I could never have. I am fully aware of how hysterical and greedy I sounds, but I'm tired of hearing about how we can't afford this or that. No prom dress, no trip to Italy, no camera, no birthday or christmas presents, no nothing. These things that people get without blinking, and flaunt all over the place, and I can't have a single thing. There are some people, like my best friend, who are terrible about this. They get whatever they want, from the travel to the boys to the fans to the stuff, and their biggest problems are their grades...which are shit because they don't bother doing their homework, no matter how many tutors their parents line up for them. But they'll probably end up graduating and being successful anyway because the sad truth of the matter is that its not about working hard. That gets you close to nowhere. It's about whoring yourself out and looking pretty. It's about being trashy enough to get whatever you want, whenever you want, however you want it. How's that for a reality check? And no matter how down in the dumps you are, there won't be anyone to pick you up, because even your closest friends don't want to hear you hashing out the details of your piss poor love life one more time, hoping that stupid shit that lost you friends might make more sense this time around. They don't want to hear about how you and your best friend don't really talk outside of maybe lunch, because he's started ignoring you and your texts in favor of more interesting things and people. And why should they, when you've been a horrible friend anyway while you've been playing your own game of climb the social ladder. You can't seem to do both, be a good friend to everyone, and be well-liked. There's a certain sense of underlying cruelty that seems to have to accompany those who get whatever they want. That's why the good die young. They got screwed over by everyone else. Because this happens all the time, and your griping won't make any difference. They don't want to hear about school, or your grades, or college, or the only other things you can ever possibly think of to talk about anymore...things that only your classmates might be interested in, except they're not, in favor of sucking up to the "cool" geeks and the teachers. And the longer this school year drags on, the more often you think you just might understand why Meursault believed that after you die, you disappear, because no one will remember you. And then, when your throat starts to constrict with fear, you understand. You understand that unless you figure out how to make people want to be with you, around you, each day, you won't ever overcome that. And one day, everyone will die.