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Hip hip! Hooray! Hip hip! Hooray! Hip hip! Hooray!
Feel like I need a drink just to talk about this. Usually the only time I bring it up is when something sets me off and I can't stop thinking about it and it's just a bad time for everyone. Tonight I'm just trying to go back to a specific part of high school so I can get some writing done, just can't take the good without the bad. The bad is mostly the friends I don't have anymore.
When I was twelve I chose to grow the fuck up. Two years before that two new girls (Jess and Hell) had transferred to the private school I'd gone to since pre-pre-school (yes, it was stupid, yes it was basically daycare but with Jesus and "leaaaaarning!", eugh), and we became fast friends. Best friends even, and I even asked Jess out, and she said yes. It was the best thing that had happened to me at that point. We were certainly two of the weird kids in our grade, but I was friends with almost everyone in our hundredish-kids grade, so fuck it, it was amazing, even if our friends made fun of us. I just had no goddamn idea what I was getting myself into, is all.
A couple months into the relationship, we're hanging out pretty much every day. We lived in the same neighborhood. A couple days a week we're spending the night at each others' house. Even if we weren't like the other "Christianfags" at our school, it wasn't anything like what you're thinking. That relationship was fucking special and both of us were absolutely terrified of doing something wrong or too soon or too quickly and fucking it up, so everything moved slow. It was just a pretty great feeling to be able to sleep in the same bed and stay up half the night playing games and talking and shit. I didn't even have that luxury with male friends, since none of the ones that lived in the neighborhood had to get up at five in the morning to go to school.
A couple months into the relationship and I start noticing she's acting weird. I was (or we were, rather, it was a joint decision) pretty new to the alternative/goth scene thing, and a few years later I might have suspected things,unpleasant things, but I was fucking twelve. I certainly noticed things like long sleeves in summer or a metric fucktonne of bracelets and arm bands and shit, but at first, y'know, we were weird, it wasn't strange. Just, when that continued. Or the time she begged to go to the beach with my family instead of going to her dad's over the summer. Don't need to spend too much time dwelling on it, but he beat her quite a bit. He lost custody before we turned thirteen (her birthday was the day before mine), so water under the bridge.
We stayed together for almost four years. From January in 6th grade until October in 10th. She meant the goddamn world to me. Not that I was anything worse than mildly concerned, but when we both got the fuck out of that shitty private school, she had my back. My parents told me I couldn't date her anymore, that stopped nothing. I'd sneak out. We moved. I'd slip out and walk a 12 mile round trip just to cuddle with her for a couple hours. We were meant to be and nothing was gonna keep us apart.'
Until I met someone else. She was hella cute and she was everything I wasn't except tall, but she had a boyfriend. But I was already a fucking bad boy, it wasn't a secret, and it... I made mistakes. Waste of time to blame her, if she wants to accept her own faults good for her. Until that October it was never anything more than "I'd totally date you if I was with someone" from both of us, that she started and I couldn't lie and say otherwise. It was wrong, but it wasn't wrong enough to bother me, and when Jess spent the entirety of September groaning and grumbling and carrying on, I threw in the towel.
Like, fuck it, I'm not your goddamn therapist, I'm your boyfriend. You're one of the three people I say "I love you" to, and I don't mean that I mean it, there are only three of you. She just wanted to make excuses, this and that and that and this. Her dad had supposedly gotten his shit together and wanted custody again. One of her friends moved. It wasn't any combination of anything that was bothering me, it was her sudden inability to not be able to handle fucking anything. I accidentally broke a necklace she'd bought me for my birthday- I was climbing out a window to sneak out and it got caught on something and snapped. She flipped shit and wouldn't let me in the house. I couldn't come over one night when she wanted me to (if she'd started crying on the phone I would've fucking flown there if I could, but she just wanted to whine), she didn't talk to me for three days. So I told her at the very least to stop treating me worse than I treated my dogs, or I was gone... and that actually made her mad enough to yell at me over the phone. Nope. Nope. So much nope. Broke up with her over the phone right then and there, told her I was more than happy to stay friends with her because I wasn't trying to abandon her. She said she needed time to think. She'd call me. Alright, fine, whatever.
Single. As. Fuck.
That other girl didn't work out. Couldn't man up and break up with her boyfriend even after he tried to fight me. Even after I had fucking evidence of him being a bag of dicks. I didn't give that up until the next year, but that's not relevant to the story.
Jess killed herself a week before Christmas that year. I probably have an offmychest post floating around my submissions, not gonna waste much time on the specifics of that either. It fucking stung. It fucked me up pretty bad. I'd been drinking since we were thirteen, as much as a middle/early high schooler could which is to say, not very much, but I was a little older, had quite a few more, older friends. Money was provided and my piss poor habits were encouraged. Eventually, the other best friend beat some sense into me and I guess I'm at terms with this now. No real lasting effects other than almost none of the stories I write have happy endings. Most of them end with the leader character(s) being stripped of anything they care about and either being tortured, murdered, or killing themselves. It's much more enjoyable than it sounds, I swear.
The other best friend in the OP. Jess was always the quieter/milder of the two. Hell (which was short for Hellgirl, although I think me and her are the only ones that remember it; some of my friends called me Hellboy for a while in early middle school) was the basically the daughter of Charlie Sheen before any of us got into drugs of any sort, one gear, fucking go. Constantly. Paintball. Rock climbing. Stupid, Jackass shit. This was mostly why we were such good friends to begin with, the other reason, to be honest, is she was incredibly attractive and not shy about wanting to get with Jess and I (that never happened).
Before Jess passed we'd often have to babysit Hell. Sometimes it was parties we were at that she'd inexplicably show up at (most of our group was good about not inviting her to things with alcohol, but there was always that one asshole that thought it was "funny"), sometimes it was because we weren't at that party one of our friends that was called us telling us to come get her. She was a goddamned idiot and it's a miracle nothing worse than a hangover happened to her, but then again most people that knew her knew I wouldn't be too far behind in those situations and I was fucking scary when I needed to be.
After Jess passed, for a little while, she was the sober, serious one. I was too busy hoping (not trying, just hoping) to fuck up and die, and she would follow behind me and make sure I was okay. I actually spent a couple months living with her and her family after things with my folks came real close to a very, very bad headline (EXTRY EXTRY READ ALL THE FUCK ABOUT IT TEENAGER TO SPEND LIFE IN JAIL OVER VIOLENT DISMEMBERMENT OF PARENTS), and she kept my head on at least at a 75 degree angle at all times. Maybe not on right, but on and not totally backwards. Very likely I would be dead if not for her.
We started dating on and off the year after Jess died. I think we made it a month before I found out another friend that we treated like a sister liked me, and she encouraged me to get with that girl. That was weird and ended pretty quickly after the three of us tried a threesome that we quickly "forgot" and Hell and I got back together for a little bit before I met someone else, and then another someone else. Over the summer I noticed she was a little... off... from time to time. Not like what had happened with Jess, just... small things here and there. Nothing I can really remember now, but she would sometimes do/react/handle small things very differently that would be expected.
Towards the end of that year (2008, it was, bad year, bad year), an old friend (Haily) had come back into my life and we were very close, very fast, and around the same time some rather upsetting rumors starting going around about Hell. She was doing meth, she was pregnant, it was some random dude's from a party, it was mine, all sorts of unpleasant things. I knew more or less where it originated and while I did my best to verbally destroy the girls responsible for it (as any mildly sociopathic platonic life partner would), it didn't really do much, and I didn't feel right hitting a girl, even if they could've gained from a backhand or two. So instead, I let Hell take out all her shitty feelings on me, and she said some things, and she embarrassed herself, and we stopped talking.
I went on about my life, this was around Thanksgiving, and Christmas season was my jam. Too much planning and stuff to do to try and make her talk to me again. Gave it time.
Post Christmas, almost the end of January, Haily ended up the hospital, and I ended up staying there several nights a week. She passed away two days before Valentine's and for the last two weeks or so I was up there every night. Valentine's Day that year was pretty rough, the girl I was dating/trying to date (still don't know what I'd call that period, other than fucking confusing) had had a kid around the time Haily ended up the hospital, so hanging out with her was out of the question. It was unseasonably warm, and it rained all fucking day. It was humid and nasty and my parents took the keys to my car, but I was frustrated and angry, so instead of going for the drive I wanted (looked and failed to find the keys, would've just dipped had I found them) I went for a walk in the fucking tropical storm weather. It was disgusting. I got soaked, but I decided I was going to walk to that fake-sister's house since she was friends with Haily and I was going to lose my fucking mind if I had to sit alone in my room for another day. Hell ended up driving past me walking to town and I went to her house instead. We made up.
That summer, the girl that I'd been dating (the one that had the kid, don't judge me) broke up with me because her family might be moving. At that point... fuck it, whatever. I was held together with wristbands and gorilla glue at that point. Less than a week after school let out (and she broke up with me), I had my wisdom teeth pulled. Fucking sucked. Had to break two of them with a bloody goddamn hammer to get them out. Hell actually stayed at my house for a couple days to take care of me, which annoyed my parents but let my mom off the hook so I guess they put up with it.
You might see where I'm going with this. Wasn't even a week passed since I was broken up with that I was fucking some other girl. Don't care, it was amazing. The last day I had to keep the gauze in my mouth, I wanted to go get food, drive through fast food, just to get out of the house for a bit, but Hell wasn't having that. She threatened to handcuff me to the bed. I called her bullshit, but gave in because it was the second day I wasn't rolling off painkillers and the first that I wasn't exhausted from rolling off painkillers. She leaves, presumably to get food, and comes back with food... and handcuffs. I learned about the handcuffs when I tried the same thing the next day, and she handcuffed my fucking arm to the bed.
That was the summer of My Chemical Romance, way too many fucking energy drinks, and constant sex. When she actually started dating the girl I treated like a sister (this will come up later, take notes), I hooked up with one of my ex's some and then started dating some of my other friends literally just to get laid. Didn't give a single (metaphorical) fuck about it, either. Honestly didn't even talk to some of those girls again after we "dated". Unrepentant. Certainly bothers me now, and it actually kind of hurts that a couple of my friends still make jokes about it, but IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII was havin' that shit. I fucked up.
That was also the summer that we discovered Hell was bipolar, emotionally dependent, and emotionally unstable. Our dating/fucking periods throughout the season were intermittently amazing, violent sex, constant shows with our stupid band, and her falling apart. Just, you know, like always, I made sure I was around to pick up the pieces she couldn't. If/when it came down to it, she was my best friend and that was what was most important. It was just nice that we were fucking.
There were certainly some rough periods during that summer and the next year. The week she started dating Kimmie, she had the nerve to talk shit about the girl that broke up with me at the start of summer. I mean, repeatedly, up in my face about it. Obnoxious as fuck, insulting me and her, just... bad. One day she did it at a band practice, basically in front of my other three closest friends, and I fucking lost it. I slapped her hard enough to knock her on her ass. This was worse than when Ron Burgundy jumped in the lion pit. Everyone got silent I got silent. I just couldn't even. Turned and walked my ass across town to my grandma's house to help her move a day early, went and did a confession, all that shit. She apologized first a couple days later and things went back to normal other than the black eye I gave her.
Then there was the incident over spring break the next year. She hit Kimmie, and I was not having that shit. Nobody, not even the Devil himself, lays a fucking hand on my little sister. I was doing an internship for the first couple days that week, and I had to shuffle around the copy-room of a law office, seething and making copies like a bad Jhonen Vasquez gag, for hours, until I could leave and zoom my ass over to Hell's house. Flipped my fucking shit on her. Put a hole through her bedroom door. Scared the shit out of her parents until they found the real reason Kimmie had an ice pack on her face, at which point they told me not to send Hell to the hospital.
That's funny cause it's ironic. The three of us sorted things out and I promised her if it happened again I would hit her back twice as hard, and that was that, and then not even fucking thirty minutes later her dad calls me telling me to get the fuck to the hospital ASAP. u fukken wot m8. Literally never heard her dad raise his voice or get more than mildly annoyed at something. He's nearly shouting at me while explaining that, a little bit after I left, she casually went to the kitchen and stabbed herself in the throat. ahahafuck.
Kids, unless you want to grow up and be a therapist, don't befriend crazy. I wanted to grow up and be Gerard Way, this was not okay. Teehee, like the song! Shitty puns aside, she managed to fuck up pretty good there and the last time we spoke she still couldn't talk much louder than a loud whisper. A lot of therapy and medication followed after this, but she was much better, I would almost go as far as "normal", so I guess something good came out of it.
Actually didn't mean to or realize I had that much to say about this crazy bitch. If you happen to read this, I still love you, sugar. Lots.
We kinda got really close again after that. Scared the shit out of me that I might actually lose her, and that certainly wasn't lost on her. Nobody looked out for me like she did, and vice versa. Didn't last long because Kimmie got jealous and I stopped talking to both of them hoping it was the best decision, but it was intense, for sure. Kinda stopped talking to most people from high school around then, the end of summer right before college, so it hurt a little less.
We hung out a little bit in 2011 after Kimmie dumped her, but she started turning me down and the last couple months of the year weren't more than a "check-in text". We'd both calmed the fuck down, and I tried to be besties with her again the next year, but it just... I don't know what I did wrong. Probably nothing, but I can't not blame myself for that one. And then last year, we tried one more time and she ended up paying me a substantial amount of money to pretend to be her boyfriend for a day and sleep with her.
Have since put out the feelers so to speak, and from what little I've heard started pushing people out when Kimmie broke up with her. I honestly don't think she has any friends now, but she doesn't have a Facebook, so it's a little hard to creep. None of the old crew talks to her now, at least. Makes me sad as shit when I think about her, but I can't force her to be friends with me. if she wants to be a hermit, 's her choice.
We sort of "adopted" her as a kid sister when we were 11. Honestly don't know when she moved into our neighborhood, but Jess and I happened by some guys around our age picking on her for playing alone and made them scoot, and became friends with her. She was always really quiet and shy, and she liked to hide behind me since she was always quite a bit shorter (ended up a little more than a foot shorter when I stopped growing). That was definitely a big part in seeing/treating her as the little sister, even though she was only a couple months younger than me and Jess. Found out in high school she was actually a little developmentally slow and a couple years behind because of it.
I haven't seen or heard from her since she broke up with Hell. Literally disappeared. She'd moved in with Hell's family in 2008 or 2009 after some trouble with her folks and then stuck around through high school after they got together. Idid find her Facebook once but she never messaged me back and it's been deleted or Private'd since. I guess in the least, I'm proud of what she grew up into when we were still friends. Still pretty quiet, but between me and Hell and some of our other friends we helped her get through some pretty severe anxiety/attachment issues, and she came out all on her on in 2009, so good for her.
Okay, I know you know this account. Don't know if you still reddit, so it might not matter, but there's a chance you might read this, and I'm so fucking proud of you, kiddo. You are as much an idiot and a reject and a fuck up as Hell and I and you're the only one of us that's managed to not constantly fuck up so far.
I hope you get that Black Parade wedding we talked about in high school. I hope you find someone at least willing to put up with that, that isn't me, this time, I mean. You know that shit would not have worked. One or both of us would've ended up dead, and not in the romantic Bonnie and Clyde way we talked about after we saw Public Enemies.
That's kind of the reason I don't want to be around you anymore. You said, for whatever weird reason you came up with, you still like me, like that, and I kind of thought we were past that, cause I sure as shit was. I'm kind of past all the shit I was when were close, and I'm definitely past all the shit I was by the time you moved the first time. You said it was okay and you'd deal with it and holy fuck, no, I've been on that side of the equation before. That's not a "deal with it" situation, that's a "get the fuck out before this shit goes nukyerlar" situation, and if you can't do it, I can. Well, I mean, obviously I did, I wouldn't be writing this stupid apology that you probably won't ever see and I know will just make shit worse if I randomly send it to you.
Okay, I'm proud of you and I'm sorry we didn't work out. Not even my fault (or yours, it's not anyone's fault that we couldn't last more than a couple weeks at a time) and I'm sorry. Good luck, sugar. Don't think you actually need it, but good luck anyways.
Think you're the only one I could ever make peace with, maybe because you were one of maybe three friends I had in high school with no inherent mental issues? Nasty drinking problem after your mom died, but it was temporary, 's okay.
I still miss you. Should've been me in more ways than one, but the time for that shit's gone and passed, too. Temporary.
Hopefully won't be seeing any of you once I die, but I think if you and me end up the same place there may as well not be those kinds of places, cause they're full of fukken shit.
And you're the one I still can't really let go of. You are that goddamn ghost that's always looking over my shoulder, but you never talk back. I mean, I don't wish for that, cause that would mean you were stuck here, and that would be really fucked up, but that would *almost be better than this.
I know I've made at least four posts on various subs since I found reddit in 2011, but I think it's probably close to ten by now. I've deleted all of them but one, because usually I write at ungodly hours like this, go to sleep, feel better, and delete that shit in the morning, but this was the first one that wasn't mourning, completely.
I fucked up. Nothing that happened to you was my fault but I could have goddamn prevented at least the last shitty thing in your life if I'd just tried a little goddamn harder to fucking pay attention to you instead of some girl I liked because we don't even fucking talk anymore and that was a sham of a relationship anyways. If it fucking comes down to it, maybe I should have turned down your attempt to get my help that September, and maybe you would've gotten clean on your own and I'd be the dead one.
Or not. Wouldn't fix anything but at least I'd have fierier things to worry about. I'm sorry and I miss you more than anyone else I've ever known.
You can write about anything that is important to you – your whole life, personal trauma or events that have affected you in the past.Share Your Story
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