Innocence

"This is high school, every is going through a hard time," this is my friend who earlier today texted me about how her mom walked in on her and her "boyfriend". She's hysterical, to put it lightly, and insane, if we're being honest. I enjoy her company, though, and she preaches the truth.

"We're all changing," she continues, "and, like, growing up and shit."

I take a moment to reflect on my growing up. I think I lost my innocence when someone said "Hey baby you look cute as shit" to me in a Neopets message. I don't really know. It was the first coffee stain on my immaculate white church dress that was my life prior. I've taken really big strides since then. It's a lot easier to grow up than to grow down, I've realized.

Complaining 101 No. 2

Art by Francisca Pageo

In the gulf of my school's library, where I remained until I thought I’d died, I contemplated the common teen plight of virtues, love, abandonment and why when I paint my nails my cuticles always get in the way.

To be fair, I’m heartbroken, like, eighty-seven percent of the time. Heartbreak catalysts aren’t limited to common male rejection. I get downhearted over mp3’s that won’t download and holes in my leggings; it’s all something to shed tears about.

Recently, a boy who I kissed twice was caught holding hands with another lady and I immediately sent the text, “I belong in a brothel and I will never be loved” to seven of my friends.

My favorite reply was “Yo, he’s gay tho.”

God, I have the best friends.

I hate being a girl because I’m just intrinsically stupid and desperate.